Seduction Moves
by Keltic Banshee
Summary: John Hart is back in Cardiff. And with him, chaos and madness, although this time it may not be his fault... The question is... who is seducing who? This story kickstarts my "Seduction Moves" 'verse, and is followed by "Aftermath"
1. Introduction

_**Title:** _Seduction Moves  
_**Summary**: _John Hart is back in Cardiff. And with him, chaos and madness, although this time it may not be his fault... The question is... who is seducing who?  
_**Characters:** _Jack Harknerss, Ianto Jones, John Hart, Gwen Cooper  
_**Rating:** _NC-17 (I think... I'm bad with ratings)  
_**Spoilers:** _Season 2 and a brief mention of "The Dead Line"  
_**Warnings:** _That I consider I should warn for, mainly just the fact that I write the characters as I see them. Which means Ianto is a strong-willed person that knows how to handle whatever life, Torchwood, Jack or any other Time Agent throw his way (and would have worn a gas mask when walking in to see the 456), Jack cares for those he loves and will do anything to keep them happy and safe (including thinking ahead... well, most of the time), John may be a heartless bastard when he wants but behind that he _does_ care about others (at least a few others), and Gwen does mean well, but doesn't always see the whole picture (but then again, neither do most of us in our day to day lives, do we?). That other people may want to know some character(s) will be mistreated just a bit (so will Ianto's suit), Jack will at some point or another die, somebody will at some point or another voice what could be considered an unfair opinion on Gwen, there will be an awful lot of teasing and sex (although no drugs that I know of and no rock'n'roll either) in various combinations of the main three characters (sorry about Gwen, but there is no playtime for her), some characters will get to watch some pretty interesting things, and there will be cuffs and showers (although it may not always be what you are thinking, and I am in no way to be held responsible for what your imagination you thought this meant).  
**_Disclaimer: _**Torchwood and all the characters belong to Russell T. Davies and the BBC. No copyright infringement intended, although a custody battle seems appropriate after July 2009. No money is being made. I'm not even getting my usual dose of sanity out of this.  
**_Special thanks: _**Other than my betas, there's a bunch of people who deserve a mention. First and foremost, a dear friend of mine who finally was forced to get an LJ username made it into LJ, and discussed aliens with me and came up with about 90% of the Very Nasty Aliens you will meet in this story; I told him what I needed the aliens to cause, he gave me a whole species! You are amazing and you know it, pal! Also, to everybody who had a look at the (very, very, very) early drafts and convinced me it was a story worth telling.

Welcome ladies, gentlemen and aliens, to the "Seduction Moves"'verse. This fits in canon between "Exit Wounds" and "The Dead Line". After that, it goes back into canon as we know it (namely, Children of Earth), and from there to Aftermath.  
This does _not_ mean that I accept Children of Earth, for reasons I have discussed at lenght in other posts and places. But, me being me, I can't just _ignore_ canon, I have to _work around it_ until I like the result. So, there already is a second part to this story on the works. It will fit after Aftermath, and will be my epic fix-it, which will finish establishing my own 'verse to write in.  
I will be posting a chapter a day, starting today, and I will update the links below. I'll try to make it appear at a regular time, but I'm not making any promises. We all know how much of a *"%£$ RL can be sometimes!

My short stories "Blind" and "Ties that Bind" fit somewhere between Ch. 13 and Ch. 16.


	2. First Move

_**First move**_

He grins as he steps inside the pub, leaving behind the drizzle of the Cardiff night and attracting, as usual, more looks and glances than would be wise in any other time. But this is barely the 21st century, technology so primitive and morals so restricted that very few, if any, of Earth's inhabitants pose the slightest threat to him. And he keeps tabs on those, just in case.

Right hand on the hilt of his sword, he makes his way to the bar and sits on a stool. His smile widens as he takes in the small details. In the shadows of one of the booths, two women are having an argument in quiet voices that tell him it is a love thing. A large group sits around a few tables, most likely an after office soirée with its undercurrents of politics, hatred and sexual tensions. At the other end of the bar, a young woman sips a cocktail while nervously checking her mobile phone. To his left, a young man in a suit stares at the depths of a shot of whiskey.

"Hello, Eye Candy." He keeps his voice low and inviting. Ianto jumps in his seat, spilling some of his drink as he turns around to face him, a determined look on his cute face while he swallows hard. He can't tell whether it is nerves or surprise Ianto is battling, but it makes his whole body tingle anyway. "Nice to see you again."

"I thought there was a bad smell around here. Captain Hart." Ianto takes a deep breath and schools his face, quickly regaining his composure, catching himself just as his hands reach up for his tie. "I thought you were under instructions to keep yourself well away from this time." John smiles, wolfish, and waits patiently, until the little signs that betray the other man's apparent calm reappear. Ianto's eyes flicker away from him, as if he couldn't hold John's gaze for too long; long, slender fingers play with the coaster under his glass.

"Just because I caused a bit of trouble?" Ianto sighs and scowls at him. Whatever Ianto meant to say is interrupted by the barman approaching them. John orders a drink for himself and another shot for Ianto, despite his muffled protests, leaving the money – how quaint – on the counter. "Besides, what Jack doesn't know, can't hurt him." He downs the shot in one, alcohol burning his mouth, his throat, and warming him.

"Why are you here?" He can't help a smirk. He raises a hand and gestures to the barman. A few more notes on the counter and the bottle is left by his glass. Pouring another drink, he ponders for a second. Why is it always the backwaters of time and space that hold the most interesting people? What a cosmic joke.

"Because, Eye Candy," he finally replies, slowly turning to face Ianto, eyes fixed on him like the proverbial hypnotizing snake, "I always get what I want." He moves in, slowly invading Ianto's personal space, stopping only when their lips are nearly touching, hand crawling from Ianto's knee to his thigh, fingers barely ghosting on the expensive material of the suit. He pauses for one, two, three heartbeats, all too aware of the adorable blush on Ianto's face, giving him a chance to stand up and walk away. Many things could be said about John Hart – or about any other name he's worn through the years – but nobody could accuse him of not being a fair hunter.

He can't tell who, in the end, closes the distance between them. Not that he cares too much, with Ianto's mouth pressed firmly against his, but he would like to think it was Ianto who moved first. And the kiss is so unlike what he expected, hungry and curious and shy at the same time. He rolls his eyes as he sneaks a hand up Ianto's chest and grabs his chin, wondering how long it will take until...

There. Ianto scrambles to his feet, pushes him square on the chest and glares at him, struggling to steady his breathing. His lips curl in the beginning of a smile; Ianto's hands curl into fists, eyes fixed on him. Then, just as he is getting ready for a fight, Eye Candy takes a deep breath, finishes his drink and grabs his coat, pausing only to shoot another murderous look towards him. He grins and clutches his glass.

"I would leave town if I were you, Captain." There's a snark in the last word that nearly hurts. "Before I regret not stunning you where you stand and dragging you into the vaults. Preferably one with a Weevil in it" Without another word, Ianto spins around and heads for the street, slipping his arms into the sleeves of the coat and shrugging it into place. He watches, fascinated, as the door closes behind him, then bursts into laughter. He really enjoys the chase.

* * *

Cold air hits him as he walks out of the bar, just a few steps behind Ianto. By the look on his face when he turns around and leans against the wall, Ianto is trying very hard to convince himself he isn't running away from anything. A trembling hand fishes in the jacket pocket for that primitive communication device – headset, if memory serves – and starts a call. John can just about catch the tail end of the conversation – guess who is back in town – as he approaches him, carrying a bottle of scotch in his hands.

"Come on, Eye Candy, you can't go home so early. The night is young!" He waggles an eyebrow, inviting, yet all he gets in return is an ice cold glare. Hands in his pocket, resolution etched on his pretty face, collar turned up to keep the light rain away, Ianto looks even more tempting, and even more dangerous than ever before. He doesn't doubt for a second that he will end up in a cell in the Hub, if he seriously annoys him. This is one of his favourite parts of the game.

He takes a few steps, moving slowly, predator after his prey. His lips curl in the beginning of a smile as Ianto lifts his head, defiant, as if wanting to tower over him. Instinctively he relaxes his shoulders; he's got no problem letting his opponent think he's got an advantage. He stops and takes a swig of the scotch, then holds it up for Ianto to grab. Eye Candy glares at him, considers the offer for a second, then shakes his head.

"No, thanks." Always well mannered and the perfect gentleman. Even while pointing a gun at someone, or caught in the most passionate and intense sex, Ianto would probably say 'please' and 'thank you' and 'would you mind' in that quiet, understated tone of his. He rolls his eyes and shrugs, taking another sip. "Jack is on his way, Captain, and you probably don't want to be here when he arrives. He didn't seem happy."

He snorts, pretending that the snark in Ianto's words doesn't hurt, that his heart doesn't skip a beat at the thought of Jack. He takes another couple of steps, tentatively. Ianto straightens his back and seems to suddenly realize he's still leaning against the wall. He nearly expects him to gracefully step away and retreat, even turn the tables on him and back him against the wall. Yet Ianto doesn't move, and stands his ground with a smirk on his lips.

"Oh, is he? We can have that orgy I never got when I first visited." He aims for carefree as he moves forward, placing a hand on the wall, but it doesn't quite come out right. Ianto's quiet defiance has an unsettling effect on him; he knows Eye Candy is more dangerous than he looks, even in moments like this when his façade cracks just a little allowing the man underneath to be seen. He likes it that way. All part of the thrill.

He leans in a little closer, just enough for his breath to ghost over Ianto's skin. To his credit, Ianto doesn't even flinch, just raises his eyebrows and gives him another cold stare. He barely has time to notice the brief nod before he is pushed against the wall, one arm being twisted behind him, his cheek hitting the brickwork hard, a hand on his neck making sure he won't move without at least partially strangling himself. With a loud crash, the bottle hits the pavement and smashes. He howls and laughs at the same time. Steps clatter on the pavement behind him until Jack Harkness comes into view and leans on the wall just in front of him, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

"Nice of you to join us, Jack." He spits out the name as if it were venom. "Eye Candy here called for backup? Can't he handle me on his own?" Ianto tightens his grip around his neck, pulling his arm is further up.

"I don't need backup to deal with you." There it is again, the snark on Ianto's voice, and he takes a deep, frustrated breath, struggling to keep a skin-deep grin on his face.

"Oh, you have taught him well, Jack. He knows just what to do. Only next time, cute boy, try not to drop the bottle, will you? Such a waste of alcohol." He keeps his eyes on Jack, who is too busy exchanging heated looks with Ianto to notice him. He growls in frustration and fights against his restraints, half-heartedly trying to break free. Ianto uses his body weight to hold him still, and he feels a nearly familiar pressure on his shoulder as Ianto digs his chin on it. Being trapped like this feels good and he is enjoying every moment of it.

"Listen carefully, John, 'cos I'm not gonna repeat myself again. I. Don't. Want. You. In. My. Territory." Jack punctuates every word with a step towards him; behind him, he can feel Ianto's breath hitch when eventually Jack hooks a finger under John's chin and leans closer. He swallows; maybe all isn't lost yet. He tries to capture Jack's mouth, but the bastard moves away, just far enough to be out of reach, close enough to drive him mad. "I want you gone by morning or I will let Ianto feed you to Myfanwy." He snorts at the idea. Shivers when Ianto's lips barely touch his skin as he relaxes his hold.

"I would never do that, Sir." Ianto's voice is full of warmth and familiarity, even as he tries to keep it professional when addressing Jack. "She is used to good food; he would give her indigestion." John turns around to face the two Torchwood members, and can't help but notice the similarities in their stance, in their stares. "And I don't need to remind you, Captain," Ianto raises his eyebrows again, giving him a perfect poker look, "that we can track you." It is probably a bluff that he will have to put to the test.

Jack glances at Ianto, who nods again. John gives them a more bitter smile than he intended, the intimacy between them so obvious is hurts, reminding him of the time when it was just him and Jack, playing with different names and by different rules yet still going back to each other at the end of every damned day. Not that he misses it. Because he doesn't. Not all of it. Well, maybe just a bit.

"I can see why you like him, Jack." He dusts his jacket, ignoring the dull pain on his cheek. "Cute, resilient and a good snog." Jack's breath hitches for a second as he shoots Ianto an quizzical look; Ianto doesn't even look at Jack, just shakes his head. "The three of us could have so much fun together!" He watches as two pairs of eyebrows raise in near unison, as both men in front of him ponder on the offer for a second before discarding it and glaring back at him. "Your town, your rules." He lifts his hands acknowledging defeat. "Now if you'll excuse me. Since neither of you seem to be interested in my company tonight, there was a lovely pretty thing at the end of the bar that just might."

Without another word, he walks between them, patting both of them on their backsides as he goes by. He smiles wryly, wishing he could see their faces. His mind is already busy evaluating the next step of his plan and choosing his pick-up line. Jack fucking Harkness and his cute boy not being in the mood to entertain him doesn't mean he's got to spend the night alone.

"Gone by morning!" Jack's reminder follows him as he makes his way back to the pub. He ignores him. By the time he turns around, partially hidden by the etched glass on the door, Ianto already has Jack against the wall, and is kissing him as if his life were at stake. He feels the familiar burn at the bottom of his stomach and forces himself to look away, shaking his head, and return to the bar, taking a seat by the young woman still drinking cocktails on her own.

"Boyfriend stood you up, gorgeous?" He gives her his best smile. She hides hers behind her glass, shy, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. He's definitely not spending the night on his own.

* * *

He listens in the dark for the subtle signs of the woman beside him finally falling asleep. Careful not to disturb her, he gets out of the bed and starts searching for his clothes in the chaos they created on the floor when they arrived. He pauses for a second, his sword on his left hand, and leans over the sleeping figure, placing the ghost of a kiss on her forehead.

"Have a good life, Aibhlin." He brushes her hair away from her face and watches her shuffle in her sleep, a satisfied smile on her lips, before moving away and walking out of the room.

The night is cold when he leaves the building. The streets are deserted, too late for those that retire home early, too early for those that stay out until the morning. His boots clatter on the pavement as he makes his way towards the poshest hotel in the city, where he's been staying since he arrived. Good views of the bay, nice sized suite and good room service. For a moment, he considers Jack's ultimatum, considers leaving and jumping into the stars once again. But deep inside, he knows eventually he'd be back. So he may as well not leave yet.

**_Countermeasure_**

Jack finds himself pinned against the wall the moment the front door of Ianto's place closes behind them. Ianto is kissing him, all heat and tongue and teeth. Hands are tugging his coat off his shoulders until it falls on a heap on the floor, and, for once, neither of them seems to care about where clothing lands. The corner of his mouth curls in the beginning of a smile. He loves these rare occasions when Ianto lets go of his carefully restrained persona and allows himself to enjoy and get lost in the moment.

Ianto bites his neck, marking him, making him hiss. The part of his brain that hasn't turned to mush yet barely registers how easily Ianto seems to find the right place and the right way to touch; his body is too busy reacting to every little brush of hands and ghosting of lips and grazing of teeth to notice anything other than Ianto, and the heat building between them, and the haunted look in his lover's eyes disappearing. He's panting by the time Ianto falls to his knees, resting his cheek on his hip, close enough to send fire coursing through his body, too far away for his liking, deft fingers making quick work of his boots. Always practical, always considerate, that's Ianto.

Eyes closed, hands reaching for purchase on the wall, he struggles to take a breath, as if his body had forgotten how to do it. Eventually, he starts attacking Ianto's clothing, still half expecting his organizing, controlling part to kick in and frown at him for dropping the suit jacket on the floor, just a couple of feet away from where shoes have been kicked to. To his surprise, Ianto's hands go to his own tie, and get in the way as both of them fight buttons and cufflinks and belts.

"That psychopathic ex lover of yours came onto me in the bar." Barely a murmur in his ear as Ianto throws his own shirt to the floor. For a second, he expects jealousy to spark somewhere and hit him; after all, he's lived amongst prejudices and preconceptions for too long. He smiles when it doesn't, and nibbles Ianto's neck. "He kissed me..." An image forms in his head: John, all heat and temptation and lust, lips pressed against Ianto's, eyes open, drinking in the reactions. He knows John, he knows how he chases those he wants.

"And?" A single, whispered word. All invitation, all curiosity. Ianto blushes and snorts and looks away and back into his eyes, and his hands still on his belt buckle. He's not sure what to expect; Ianto is not as straightlaced as most of the 21st century, and Jack is grateful for it, but being hunted by John – there is no better word to describe it – was disconcerting even for him. Ianto is not trying to avoid the question; if anything, he's looking for the answer himself. Probably the same one he was searching for earlier, when he pushed him against the wall the moment John left. He raises an eyebrow, knowing all too well the effect that rogue can have.

"And, it took a lot of effort to walk away from him." He has to smile at Ianto's honesty. It still touches him how, even when he was keeping the biggest secrets from him, back when Lisa was still in the basement, Ianto could throw the truth his way so easily. Bringing a hand to Ianto's neck, he pulls him in for a kiss, and, for once, surrenders into it. Lets Ianto take the lead, claim him and mark him again.

"Yet you did." The reply comes as they break for air. At those words, Ianto's hands start moving again. "He's walking temptation... It almost worked on me when he came back..." He nearly expects a sarcastic witticism, but Ianto just gives him that knowing smile that makes it painfully obvious that he's lived through more in his short years than others do in entire lives. "We..." For a second, he wonders how much to tell him. Not that he's hiding anything, it just... has never come up before. "We... fought. Kissed, then fought some more." Ianto digs his fingers on his sides, making him moan. "Just like the old times... though John's not used to being denied what he wants."

"Just the usual preamble to mind-blowing sex between you two then." There it is, the trademark sarcasm. With a smile, Ianto places a hand on his chest and pushes him back, and only then does his brain register that they've managed to make it to the sofa, and he's wearing considerably less clothes than he was when he last noticed. So is Ianto.

"Only _without_ the mind-blowing sex. Takes a strong man to walk away from him." Barely another whisper, as they fall on the sofa, tangled up and wanton and sweaty. Words are quickly forgotten as Ianto lavishes attention on him, kissing, licking, nibbling, teasing, all over and everywhere at the same time. And he recognizes it for what it is: the need to reassure himself that Jack is all he needed, to lose himself in his lover to drive away the intruder. Just as he did after John's first visit. He yields, surprise and pleasure coursing through him as he realizes how easily he becomes willing putty in Ianto's hands. He cards his fingers through his hair, greedily kissing any hint of skin that comes within reach.

"It wasn't easy." Ianto's voice is always low and needy at times like this, and it always shoots through him and short-circuits something in his brain. He tries pulling Ianto close and they nearly fall off the sofa. Ianto laughs, that quiet, heartfelt laughter that is so rare, and his whole body reacts to it. Slowly, carefully, Ianto crawls closer and settles over his chest, catching his breath. He closes his eyes and runs a hand along Ianto's back. A soft kiss on his neck, and they are all over each other again.

"Why do it then?" The question is out before he even thinks about it. Ianto stops moving and looks at him from above, running a thumb along his jawline, considering. He shivers at the sheer heat between them, the emotion trapped behind the silent gesture. He swallows hard and bucks his hips. Ianto kisses him, teasing, demanding.

Ianto of all people should be able to understand that love and desire are much more than the quaint definitions this century attempts to fit around them. His open-mindedness still surprises him at times. How he has barely batted an eyelid to anything he has ever proposed in bed, and even made suggestions of his own that caught Jack by surprise but he was than happy to indulge in. How Ianto listens to his tales with genuine interest, probably filing away any nugget of information that may come in handy in the future. It is quite a change from all the times over the last century when he was told past lovers are not a polite topic of conversation with current ones.

"I don't believe you.... when you say you wouldn't mind." He smiles at that, and lifts his head to kiss Ianto as the two of them move together again.

"As long as I get the dirty details..." Ianto bites hard on his shoulder, playful and punishing at the same time, and he loses the ability for rational thought. Time loses meaning, and all that matters is heat and presence and that elusive something behind Ianto's eyes he can't quite name, and pleasure running through his body at the slightest touch and those needy sounds they are both making and the feeling of skin on skin .

Ianto comes with his name on his lips, bringing Jack with him.

Somehow, some time later, once he can breathe and move again, they make it to the shower, and even to the bed.

* * *

In the darkness, Jack drapes an arm over Ianto's waist as his mind wanders. He's tired and his whole body aches in the best possible way, and flashes of last night flicker through his mind. Ianto has been soundly asleep for a good few hours by now. Watching him sleep is always interesting. Some nights, he'll toss and turn, haunted by nightmares he never remembers in the morning, relaxing only when he settles close to Jack; others, he'll barely move at all, drifting peacefully into sleep. Tonight, mercifully, is the latter.

As he traces abstract patterns on Ianto's hip, his mind goes back to the first contact of the night, pressed hard against the wall the second John turned around and walked away. He should have gone after him, and kicked him out of here and now, but something in Ianto's haunted look when he let go of Hart convinced him there were more pressing things to attend to than getting rid of a former lover.

Snatches of sex and conversation from last night replay in his head. Why is John suddenly so interested in Ianto? He raises an eyebrow as he remembers that John rarely nicknames anybody he doesn't intend to shag, so maybe it is not such a sudden interest after all. He nuzzles Ianto's neck as he struggles to decide whether he really meant he wouldn't mind if he ended up in John's bed. He swallows hard and smiles in the dark. Of course he meant it.

Yet Ianto had made a choice last night. A hard one; walking away from John Hart was not easy, particularly if he was in a hunting mood. Yet Ianto had. And he would do all he could to make sure Hart didn't make it any tougher than it needed to be.

Placing a kiss on the back of Ianto's neck, he gets out of the bed. It is not dawn yet; he'll make sure John is gone and be back with muffins in time for breakfast. As he sneaks out of the room and starts picking up his clothes, he can hear Ianto moving in bed. If he's quick, he may even make it back before he wakes up. He smiles. He enjoys waking up with Ianto, even if most nights he can't sleep.


	3. Second Move

_**Second move**_

John's boots barely make a sound on the plush carpet of the hallway as he walks towards his hotel room. With a sigh, he presses a few buttons on his wriststrap to open the door. He takes a deep breath as he walks in, closing the door behind him and resting his back on it. In the darkness – it is not dawn yet, and all the lights are off – he can see a shadow, sitting on an armchair by the window. He'd recognize it anywhere.

"Ah, Jack." He's been hoping Ianto would show up first. He takes a few steps towards him, and eventually stops, tucking his thumbs under his gun belt. "Make yourself comfortable. Mi casa es tu casa." He smiles, all too aware of the sarcasm in his voice. "What brings you to my humble dwelling?" Jack snorts, and John doesn't need light to picture his expression.

"You always had a taste for the expensive stuff." Seconds tick in silence as they stare at each other in the dark. There is something comfortable about it, something familiar; it feels like all the meaningful conversations they've ever had were under the cover of darkness. "But you seem to be losing your charm, old man." He resists the urge to shoot Jack; he'd only make a mess of the room, and he really likes this hotel. "Bed's not been touched." He can tell Jack's smiling. That quiet half-smile that is so rarely seen, the one that accompanies Jack's good-humoured banter. The one that still hurts when he remembers it. He blinks the memories away.

"Look who's talking." Jack probably shrugs, dismissing the implications. He moves closer, the carpet still muffling his steps, until he's only a couple of feet from Jack. "Besides, since you are so interested, I had company. Just not here." He stops, and ponders, and wonders, and wishes. "By the Goddesses, Jack, what do you want? You were never one for social calls." Jack moves on his seat; John's hands go to his guns.

"Just came by to say goodbye, make sure you disappear." There is a sudden coldness in Jack's voice he can't quite believe. He lets out a sigh and lets his hands drop to his sides; he wasn't exactly expecting a warm welcome after his last visit, but he already apologized for that. He has stayed away for a while, respectfully allowing Jack to mourn his losses. And he doesn't like the idea of being barred from 21st Century Cardiff – or anywhere, for that matter – by a jealous ex-lover.

Although he's quite sure jealousy is the last thing in Jack's mind right now. Couldn't the man, just for once, make up his mind. Is he Captain Harkness, who would like to sever all ties with him and keep his lover to himself, or is he the old Jack that used to drag him into bed – or any other barely appropriate surface – just for the fun of it, and would propose a threesome over breakfast with the same breath he asked for coffee?

"Why should I go? I like this time, this place. It has good food, interesting people. The drinks are a bit soft but I think I can live with that." He feels the heat of Jack's stern look even without seeing it. "And then there's Eye Candy, and, of course, you." Before he knows it, he's pinned against the wall, the back of his head hitting it hard as Jack presses a forearm to his throat. He'll have to watch it or he'll make a habit of ending up against walls. "Well, Jack, you always knew what I wanted." His voice trails off into a whisper when Jack tightens his grip.

"I am serious, John. I don't want you here. I don't want you within twenty years of Ianto Jones." Jack bares his teeth, a gesture John grew accustomed to in their times together. He twists his head, exposing his throat as much as he can. He can feel the fight roaring inside Jack, torn between kicking the living lights out of him and sending him packing, or taking what he was offering. He can sense the tension as Jack stills for a moment. With a last push against the wall, Jack lets go and takes a few steps back. "Leave. Now. Before I regret letting you go."

He smiles and moves forward, all too aware of the effort Jack is putting into standing his ground. He knows Jack too well, despite how much he's changed since their times together. He can read him like an almost open book, and he knows that, despite his threats, Jack won't harm him. If anything, the sex will be fantastic, if Jack finally makes his choice.

"Afraid I will take Eye Candy away from you, Jack?" Swallowing hard, he tries to push Jack, just a little. Another step, slowly but surely getting nearer. "No need to worry about that. It is not what I have in mind." He raises his eyebrows, savouring the mixture of confusion and disbelief he can just about see on Jack's face. The man who prides himself in having all the answers can't see what is in front of him. He moves in closer, standing on the balls of his feet, barely a hairsbreadth away from Jack's lips. "And you should know me better than that. I would never steal somebody's lover if I can have them both."

Jack clutches at his shirt and pulls him towards him, kissing him in a way that reminds him of old times, all bite and tongue and want. John kisses him back, knowing full well Jack will soon pull away as soon as the thought of Ianto crosses his mind again, once again failing to see that Eye Candy would oh so be game for what he's offering. Nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasts. He grabs fistfuls of Jack's coat and lets out a strangled moan as Jack's breath ghosts along his jawline.

"I don't care what you want." Barely a whisper, sending shivers down his spine. "Stay away from Ianto." Jack bites his lower lip, and John feels the contradiction between the other man's words and his actions. "Stay away from me." A knee slides between his legs and hits just the right place. He loses his footing and before he knows it he's on the floor, Jack towering above him, breathing hitched. He lifts his head from the carpet and keeps his eyes on Jack's until the other man leans down and kisses him again. And oh, Goddesses, why does Jack have to be so stubborn sometimes?

He holds on to Jack, arms crawling under his coat, tracing patterns in their search for skin. He's missed Jack ever since their little tryst in the bar. Probably since the damned day Jack left, but he'd rather not even entertain that thought. It's no use trying to deny the facts when his whole body is on fire, and the man is still wrapped in all his layers of uniform. He finds himself pinned under Jack's weight and swallows hard. Jack's fingers dig on his shoulders, making him hiss and hope. Before he's got time to blink, Jack jumps back to his feet and takes a few steps away from him, muttering what sounds too much like nonsense made into supposedly good reasons why giving in to an ex-lover is always a bad idea. He growls in frustration, curses bloody 21st century social conventions, and stands up.

"Jack..." Silence. He lets out a sigh. Gets closer and reaches out to the other man, a hand aiming for that spot of the neck that seems to accumulate all the tension in Jack's body. Jack moves away again, before he can touch him.

"No." Jack's voice is cold, dispassionate, empty. He remembers that voice, that trademark I-really-am-not-at-all-interested tone that came in so handy while conning their way around time and space. He raises his eyebrows. Does Jack really expect him to fall for that?

"But I haven't..." He narrowly misses the punch, stepping to the side and straining his ears in the near darkness. Jack's probably more furious with himself than with anybody else; he knows all too well that is the worst of Jack's anger.

"I said no." He spins around, facing the direction of the voice. "Didn't you hear me the first time? Getting hard of hearing, are you, John?"

"Why?" The question barely breaks the silence, just a whisper. He's not sure what he's asking, he just wants to force Jack to reconsider a few of his certainties. Just like Jack did with him, all those aeons ago.

"Why? Because you are a psychopath. A conman. A liar, a murderer, a traitor." Each word makes him cringe. He refuses to believe Jack can't see past the masks and the pretensions. He takes another step towards him, trying in vain to calm his breathing. He really doesn't want to wreck the room in a fight.

"Oh, I'm much more than that, Jack, and you know it better than anybody else. Why do you insist in denying yourself what you want?" Jack stops in his tracks. "Don't give me that look, I don't need to see it; you are scowling at me right now. I know you. I could always tell when you wanted me and when to stay out of your way. Some things never change."

"You're wrong." Another punch in his direction. He is expecting it this time, and steps neatly aside, catching Jack's hand and pulling him into his arms. Jack presses his body against him, relaxes into it, takes a deep breath. Just like the old times, the calm amidst the fight. Then tries to pull away.

"Look at you, Jack, you've gone native. Stranded in this pathetic century for so long you even behave like one of them" Jack pushes him square in the chest with both hands and nearly sends him to the floor. He can't help a smile; he always loved fighting with Jack, it was more often than not the preamble to mind-blowing sex, but he really isn't on the mood for it right now. "I'm sure you would reconsider, if you had seen the look in Ianto's eyes when I put my offer on the table." Jack growls in frustration; John grins. "Unless, of course, you really think nobody in this time can have an open mind." A rustle of clothes; Jack has finally started to shed his layers. At least the coat, judging by the loud thump on the floor. "Which would be a pity, really. You should give Eye Candy more credit."

Playing hide and seek in the dark was always more fun when he wasn't sure what he would get in the end, if anything. There's a tingling running through his whole body as the different scenarios of how this could be resolved play out in his head. Although Jack being Jack, things never played out as he – or anybody – expected them.

"Why do you want to stay, if it is such a pitiful time?" Jack's voice comes too late for him to avoid him as he sweeps his legs from under him and pins him to the ground, arm bent behind his back. He tries to kick Jack off him without much conviction. A knee digs into the small of his back; he stops moving. "You are not wanted here." He snorts, then breaks into a laugh that doesn't sound as carefree as he would like it to.

"I would like to differ on that one, Jack." Jack straddles him, holding him down with his weight and pulling his arm a bit harder. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he wonders if he's going to get the same treatment from every Torchwood member. "If you wanted me dead, I wouldn't still be breathing; if you wanted me gone, you wouldn't have let me go last night." He feels the other man's breath on his neck as Jack leans down, and can't help but shudder. "But you did."

A bite on his neck makes him hiss and arch his back. He kicks his legs, trying to unseat Jack, but he is probably expecting it and merely tightens his hold on him. Not even an inch away from his ear, Jack sniggers.

"I was feeling generous." His laugh turns into a gasp when Jack bites again, hard enough to leave a mark, to remind him of past times, faraway places and how different the devil-may-care Jack he knew back then is from this darker, distant Captain Harkness that seems to be calling the shots now. Immortality, although handy in his line of work, is definitely not his cup of tea. It takes the fun out of living.

"You, generous?" He moves sideways, throwing Jack off his back and trapping him before he has time to react. "It has never been your style. Admit it, Jack, you are more than a little curious about what I have in mind." Jack frees one of his hands and throws a punch his way; he moves aside and avoids it. Jack has height and weight in his favour, but he's always been nimbler. "How can you talk of generosity while you're kicking me out without even listening to me?"

Jack stills under him, and a hand reaches up, settling gently on his cheek. He would like to roll his eyes at the hidden tenderness of the gesture, yet he just leans into the touch.

"Last time I listened to you, two of my people died." No accusations, no bitterness, just facts. He nods in the darkness. Jack has always been a good leader, no one could fault him on that. "I won't risk that again." Blood pounding in his ears, he leans down and places a kiss on Jack's forehead, just like Jack had done a lifetime ago.

"There's a limit to how many times I can apologize for that before making it meaningless." He loses track of his thoughts when Jack reaches up and captures his mouth, and for a second, he thinks maybe, after all, Jack is still Jack despite the years. He digs his fingers on Jack's shoulder, memories flooding his mind and overlaying with the moment.

He tries to block the insistent, annoying noise coming from Jack's communication device. Why he would insist on using such a primitive piece of technology instead of his Vortex Manipulator is beyond him. Jack pulls away from him and answers the call on his headset. He pouts, curses and slides a knee between Jack's legs, determined not to let go. Jack bites down a gasp, keeps his voice even throughout the conversation, before hanging up.

"Eye Candy calling to check up on you, Jack?" The sniggering dies in his throat as Jack pushes him to the side and gets back on his feet, fumbling for his coat in the dark. "Or was it PC Cooper, always with a question in her mind?" He hears the beeps from Jack's wriststrap and the lights come partially on; the look on the other man's face is a mixture of emotions he can't quite decipher. "Something came up with that Rift of yours?"

"Nothing to worry about. At least nothing you should worry about." Jack turns around and heads for the door. "You have two hours to get out of here. And trust me, if you have seen the bad side of Ianto and Gwen, you don't want to be here by then. They even scare me sometimes."

John watches him open the door and leave without as much as a glance over the shoulder. He curses in languages that don't even exist yet, and punches the wall, before forcing himself to take a deep breath and rein his frustration in. With a tired sigh, he sits on the edge of the bed, unbuckles his boots and takes off his jacket before lying among the pillows, hands behind his head, staring at the emptiness of the ceiling.

For a moment, he wonders if Jack has any idea of what he's asking him to do when forcing him to leave this time and place. He shakes his head and closes his eyes; Jack is probably so busy being Captain fucking Harkness he can't see what is in front of him.

**_Countermeasure_**

Ianto wakes up to a cold bed. He knows the other side will be empty even before he turns around lazily: Jack always keeps the bed warm. Stifling a yawn, he stretches, refusing to open his eyes for just another moment. He lets out a sigh as last night comes rushing into his head and hits him like a brick wall. Hart back in town. The temptation of that voice and that kiss and those eyes promising oh so much more if only he'd say the word. Jack letting John go with just his word that he would leave before morning. The smirk on Jack's lips when he pushed him against the wall the moment John turned around. A journey back home that barely gave him enough time to sort through the chaos in his head and make up his mind. He hides his head under the pillow, knowing full well that won't keep the thoughts away.

Jack always seems to know when something is stuck in his head; by the time he told him about Hart, ever-so-perceptive Jack already knew something was up, and probably figured out exactly what. That's probably why he didn't even blink when Ianto whispered in his ear. Not even all the stories Jack has told him about his past, which are probably more than he's shared with anybody else in the last fifty years, could have prepared him for that reaction. He pointedly ignores the part of his brain trying to make sense of the concept of Jack's linear past still being in the future, from this point of the time line. Time travel and its effect on perception is one thing he can't deal with before his first coffee.

He considers the offer Jack made last night, when he asked why walk away from Hart. For barely a moment, he nearly believed Jack and his have-him-if-you-want-him attitude as they struggled not to fall from the sofa and his only coherent thought was that next time Jack comes around for the night they should at least try to make it to the bed. As Jack's hands ran over his skin and switched off his brain, he considered what it would be like... He turns his head under the pillow and takes a deep breath, forcing himself to admit that part of his brain still is considering it. Even as John is probably having his ass kicked out of 21st century Cardiff, in pure Captain Harkness style. Which, most likely, involves a lot more than just ensuring the John leaves.

His breath hitches at the thought, and something stirs deep inside, just like last night when Jack told him about John's first visit. And, to his surprise, it is not jealousy. Not that he has ever been the jealous type, but... finding himself amused and curious at the image of Jack and John, fighting and kissing and struggling for control, drawing guns on each other, is leaps and bounds away from simply not being jealous. There is something between those two, the connection of past lovers who never really lost the spark. He should be glad John will be gone shortly, but he isn't. Instead he...

Shaking his head, he props himself on his elbows and pushes the pillow and the thoughts away, slowly convincing his body to sit up and reach for the phone on the bedside table. He hesitates with it in his hands for a second, knowing Jack is probably dealing with John right now. Last night echoes in his head again, all heat and sweat and release and a bit of frustration. He swallows. It was Jack in his bed last night. That is all that matters. Stifling a yawn, he dials the number. It takes a few rings before Jack answers.

"Kicking your ex out of the galaxy, Jack?" He aims for casual, but even he can hear the slight hesitation. Why on Earth does he still try to keep a level voice, a straight face, knowing Jack can call off his bluff?

"Trying to." A pause, a sigh. He smiles, expecting a completely inappropriate remark. "Unless you changed your mind." Jack's playful tone makes him smile, yet he shakes his head.

"No." Hopefully he sounds more certain than he feels. "Need a hand dealing with him?" To send him away, he reminds himself. Just to send him away.

"No, I can manage." He can hear John snort on the other side. He can picture Jack's stern look shutting him up, and John's disbelieving expression. As if he knew more than he is letting show. Scrap that, that man _always_ keeps an ace up his sleeve. "Where are you?"

"Still in bed. I need to get going." He moves the pillows around to make himself comfortable. "Gwen will be in the Hub soon, and you know she appreciates a coffee in the mornings. Unless..." He pauses for a second, considering. "Unless you were planning on getting back here for breakfast. I could... wait, if you won't be too long." Another pause. He allows himself a smirk. Jack's not the only one with interesting ideas about how to be late for work, and make Gwen blush without even having to explain what kept them.

"I'll be right there." With that, Jack hangs up. There is a hint of relief in Jack's voice that Ianto can't quite account for.

He puts the phone back on the bedside table and tucks his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. A quick glance at the clock informs him the first pot of coffee of the day – filter coffee, since he still hasn't found an espresso machine on a timer – is brewing in the kitchen. Jack will be back in less than ten minutes, wherever in Cardiff he is, and regardless of the traffic conditions. As he always does. He thinks Ianto doesn't know, but he's the one that pays the fines for the Torchwood SUV. And gets the paintwork repaired when the scratches get too obvious.

Jack has probably thought of buying something for breakfast on the way back. Ianto knows the thought crosses his mind every night Jack leaves the bed. Because, every morning, when he wakes up alone, Jack eventually comes back empty handed and apologetic, the morning sex is fantastic, the shower rushed and the coffee drunk hastily before leaving the house, among talk of muffins and Danish pastries.

Not that he is complaining. He quite likes it that way, actually. They still make it to the Hub before Gwen shows up. Most days, anyway.


	4. Third Move

_**Third move**_

A quiet knock on the door brings him back to reality. He has spent the two hours, fifty-eight minutes, seventeen seconds since Jack left lost in his memories and wondering who, and when, would come first. The Captain, never good at resisting temptation, will most likely stay away from him; if there is something John was good at, it's tempting those around him, in each and every way he could think of. Another knock. Still lying on the bed, he stares at the door. A moment later, the handle moves and the door opens silently. He props himself on his elbows.

"Eye Candy!" He can't help the grin on his face as he gestures Ianto in. Ianto closes the door behind him and walks to the middle of the room, slipping a small object – a lock pick, almost certainly alien – back into the pocket of his woollen coat, a frown on his face. "What brings you to..."

"Why are you still here?" Ianto interrupts him in that sharp, cold tone of his that generally means trouble, and raises an eyebrow. "You have been told to leave. Twice." He stares at Ianto for a moment, as his mind drifts into oh so many other situations in which he would love to have him in his bedroom. He shakes his head. It's no use torturing himself with what could be; he's always been more of a 'make it happen' kind of guy.

"Yet I have chosen to ignore it." Ianto takes a step forward, he doesn't even move. "It must be greatly irritating your... what do you call him? Boss? Partner? Lover? Boyfriend?" He tilts his head inquisitively; all he gets in return is a death threat condensed in a look. Ianto's words during his last visit echo in his head: 'If we don't find him, I'll kill you. Very slowly.' He doesn't for a second doubt that Mr Jones is more than capable of it. That only adds to the thrill. "Jack. It must be greatly annoying Jack. Is that what you call him?"

"It is annoying everybody who knows you are here." He can see the effort it is taking Ianto to keep his hands still. He rolls his eyes. If everybody wants to smash him against a wall so badly, at least some of them could have pleasure rather than pain in mind. He raises an eyebrow; maybe Ianto does, after all. He's pretty sure Ianto could easily dish out both in the same gesture and make him yearn for more without even breaking a sweat. "How you survived this long being so good at getting on everybody's bad side is beyond me."

"Well, Eye Candy, I must be doing something right, despite your doubts about my methods." Ianto takes a step forward and undoes his coat. He gets ready to jump if he so much as gets a glimpse of a gun; he has seen Ianto in action and has learnt not to underestimate him. "Was there anything you wanted, other than reminding me to leave town, or there will be consequences?" He doesn't need to gesture to put quotes around the last word. "A good round of sex?" Ianto rolls his eyes. "A drink?"

Ianto lets out a frustrated sigh and perches on the edge of the table at the foot of the bed, crossing his arms in front of him. John raises his eyebrows, aiming for that mix of inviting and demanding that more often than not gets him anything – and anybody – he wants. But Ianto Jones is not anybody; being hard to get is part of his charm.

He gets up from the bed and crosses the room to the bar, enjoying the feeling of the carpet on his bare feet, keeping his back to Ianto. It's a gesture of defiance more than of trust; and, of course, there is the mirror on the wall in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see him taking a deep breath. He pours two good measures of whisky, and, taking one glass in each hand, walks back to Ianto, offering him a drink he knows he won't take.

"No, thanks." Ianto shakes his head; he shrugs and rolls his eyes, leaving one of the glasses on the table so it doesn't warm up in his hands. He'll be dammed if he is going to let good whisky go to waste just because Eye Candy doesn't trust him enough to share a drink. He takes the chance to place a hand on Ianto's arm; he gets a deadly glare in return.

"So, I'm curious now. You don't want to drink... you must have come here to play." He flashes a smile and gives Ianto his most seductive look. "My offer still stands. We could have so much fun together!" He lifts a hand and runs a finger down Ianto's cheek. In a swift movement, Ianto pushes his hand away and takes a deep breath.

"I am not interested in you or your offers, Captain" There it is again, that tone in Ianto's voice. He takes a sip, the whisky burning his mouth, and tells himself once again it doesn't matter, and it doesn't hurt, because it doesn't. Not in the slightest. The smile freezes in his lips.

"Let me guess. Jack sent you because he doesn't trust himself around me after this morning." Ianto frowns. "He didn't tell you, did he? Don't worry, we only had a bit of a... rough and tumble, before duty called and he left." He watches the emotions briefly play on Eye Candy's face, barely a moment, before the calm returns. "He really cares for you, you know?" Soothing the wounds he just inflicted.

"He didn't ask." Ianto looks away for a moment, before getting himself back in check and bringing his eyes back to John's. He raises his eyebrows, tilts his head and stares at Ianto. This is getting interesting. He resists the urge to stand up and snog him; he knows full well it will have to be Ianto coming to him. And that is not going to be easy.

"And he doesn't know, does he?" He downs the rest of the drink and moves closer to Ianto, watching him stand his ground, refusing to be the one to take a step back. "I'm sure he won't be pleased with you sneaking away from him like that." He smirks. "Especially not to see me. I am, after all, his psychopathic ex lover, am I not?"

"I want you gone as much as Jack does. You have caused enough trouble as it is." Ianto pauses for a second, and gives him one of those looks he's not entirely sure how to interpret, halfway between curiosity and distrust. Something stirs inside him, and he tries not to hope for too much. No worse feeling than hopes being quashed.

"Would it make a difference if I said wreaking havoc is not in my plans?" His smile is gone; he's tired of games, of masks, of pretensions. The mocking look on Ianto's face says it all. "You don't believe me." Ianto shakes his head and puts on his best smirk.

"I don't trust you." He rolls his eyes. Ianto doesn't move when he snakes a hand playfully up his chest, and he feels the man lean into the touch for just a moment when he cups his cheek, before recoiling and shooting him another murderous look. Slowly, he withdraws his hand, fingers lingering just a moment.

"Why?" He tries to keep his voice even, but something in Ianto's expression tells him he is too good at reading between the lines. He must be, if he can live with Jack's mysteries, half answers and ten percent truths. But as it so happens, so is John.

"Would you like the list in order of importance or alphabetically, Captain? I have to warn you, it is quite long." He closes his eyes for a moment, knowing full well it's not a wise thing to do around Eye Candy, but something tells him he won't be harmed: Ianto finds him too interesting for his own good. "You should pack your bags and leave." He opens his eyes again. Has Ianto got any idea how hot he looks with his hands to his hips, pushing his coat out of the way? "Now."

"Why?" He leans over Ianto to put down his glass and grab the second one, casually placing a hand on his arm again. Ianto doesn't even flinch, doesn't move, yet John can feel the tension in him. He lets out a sigh. He's getting tired of asking the same questions and getting the same answers, the same lies.

"Because you are not wanted here." Ianto's voice wavers just enough. He grins, downs his drink and leans in again to put it down. With a sigh, Eye Candy moves away from him. Just a step, but the move betrays his calmness.

"Oh really?" Ianto doesn't reply, just stares at him with those blue eyes, a stern look he's seen before. "I beg to differ." He pauses for a second. "I think I am." Ianto snorts. "I've seen the look in your face. I have seen the look in Jack's face."

"I am afraid you have too high an opinion of yourself, Captain." Again, the snark. He catches himself just as he is about to growl. Instead, he grins again. Pretends the words don't hurt. "You'll have to accompany me to the Hub if you refuse to leave." He takes a step forward and stands on the balls of his feet, standing nose to nose with Ianto.

"Make me." His voice comes out low and inviting. He holds his breath; Ianto swallows hard. Before he knows it, the kid is kissing him like he really means it; he closes his eyes and relaxes just a little, grabbing fistfuls of Ianto's coat and pulling him closer. There's none of the shyness of the night before, all bite and a hint of desperation. The thrill of what is forbidden. Ianto's voice slowly filters to his brain as a cold, metallic object suddenly hits his neck. By the Goddesses he loves this man, always so full of surprises.

"With pleasure." Lightning courses through his body. Then everything goes black.

* * *

He wakes up in a cell, just as Ianto promised last night. Mercifully, an empty one, even though he can hear Weevils growling nearby. His boots, his jacket and his weapons, including the ones he hides all over his person, are nowhere to be seen. Eye Candy has even taken his Vortex Manipulator away. The man is nothing if not thorough. He catches himself absently rubbing his wrist, and forces his hands into his pockets; he can't even remember the last time he took it off, except for that time with Gray's little trap. He feels naked without it, without his weapons. Taking a deep breath, he starts pacing around, measuring the confined space. It doesn't take long before Ianto appears on the other side of the glass wall.

"I like a man who can keep his promises." He sits on the bench, elbows on his knees, and stares at Ianto, who has lost his coat and suit jacket and looks absolutely hot in shirtsleeves, waistcoat still buttoned up. "I hope you are taking good care of my stuff, Eye Candy. Some of it is really valuable." He pats the hard concrete by his thigh. "Oh, and, if you are planning on keeping me here, could you maybe find me some... better accommodation? This is well below my standards, you know?" Ianto rolls his eyes as he double checks the locks on the cell.

"I'm afraid this is the best we can do for you." Jack's voice booms in the corridor before he comes into view. Pretentious as usual, Jack leans on the wall opposite, arms crossed over his chest, flashing a grin. "Ianto, I'm impressed. John is not an easy man to bring down. You're gonna have to tell me how you did it." His lips curl in the beginning of a smile as he watches Ianto swallow and struggle for words.

"I just... stunned him. Actually, it was easy." Eye Candy gives him a cold stare, daring him to give Jack the details. He considers his options for a second, then puts on his most innocent smile, knowing full well Jack will see right through it. "So, what are we planning on doing with him? Keeping him here indefinitely would be torture."

"See, Jack? Even your young padawan here says so. You have to find me a better place!"

"Torture for us." Ianto interrupts him in that ever so slightly annoyed tone of his. "And he is upsetting the Weevils."

"Only until he agrees to leave. Don't worry, he'll get bored soon. Give him half an hour in there and he'll be banging on the door, promising to leave and never come back if that takes him out of that cell." Jack pushes himself away from the wall and starts walking away. "You should have seen him during the time loop we got stuck in!" He rolls his eyes. As if Jack had been any better at coping with it!

"You owe me, Eye Candy," he calls after Ianto when he moves to follow Jack, the other man's voice already getting lost in the distance. Ianto takes a couple of steps back and raises an eyebrow.

"Why would that be again, Captain?"

"I didn't tell Jack." Ianto pauses and takes a deep breath, as if considering the implications, the veiled threat. Then, he just shrugs.

"There is nothing tell him." Those blue eyes fix on him again, and he can see the fire burning underneath them. It is no wonder Jack fell for Ianto, all passion and strength hidden under layers of efficiency and perfectly tailored suits. "Is there?" He nearly growls in frustration.

"You'll get me out of here. Sooner than you expect." Ianto snorts and makes his way out, leaving him, once again, alone with too many thoughts.

_**Countermeasure**_

John's words are still echoing in his head as walks back to the main area of the Hub, leaving the rogue safely tucked in his cell. That whispered 'make me' still makes him uncomfortable in his own skin. He's not entirely sure how Hart manages to wrap invitation and challenge and certainty in every word he says, but it has quite a disconcerting effect on him.

"Ianto!" He is so lost in his own thoughts that Jack's voice nearly makes him jump. He spins around to find Jack beckoning him from his office, arms crossed over his chest. "You just stunned him?" From the smirk on Jack's face, he can tell he doesn't believe him. "John's too quick on his feet for that." So much for not giving him the details, then. "Even now."

He swallows nervously as he makes his way up the stairs, eyes fixed on those that follow him with what seems to be never ending hunger, gauging the other man's reaction. There is no hint of anything other than curiosity. No jealousy, no betrayal, no threat. Not even a hint of them. He snorts. He doesn't doubt for a second that Jack is used to being told all the dirty secrets by his lovers. He has to admit that being the one doing the telling, instead of Jack, has a certain appeal; yet he knows he would never be able to share something intimate the way Jack does.

"Not when he is… distracted." He gives Jack his best smile and raises an eyebrow. Poker face, he's good at that. Jacks laughs and leans on the glass wall, and Ianto can see the thoughts crossing his mind, the possibilities, the need to know. "And as you know, he is… easily distracted."

"You could say that." As he gets closer, Jack reaches out to him and pulls him into a kiss, the kind that always leads to much more. He leans into the touch, hands trailing up Jack's chest and settling on his neck, deepening the kiss. Hands trace patterns on exposed skin, leaving trails of fire behind them. The kiss becomes messy and all teeth and bite and fight for control, as it always does... and surprisingly Jack seems to surrender to it, becoming pliant under his touch, following his lead, nearly anticipating every move and going with it, rather than opposing it. It's not that Jack has never capitulated before... but it still catches him off balance, and the sensation shoots straight through his body. "You are full of surprises, Mr Jones."

He swallows hard. Jack's voice is low and inviting and for a moment Ianto has to remind himself where they are. The Hub. Work. Coffee to be made, aliens to keep a watch on, John Hart to deal with. He takes a deep breath, and rests his head on Jack's shoulder, lips ghosting over his neck. Maybe he can relax just for a second before going back to work...

The sound of the cog door opening and the proximity alarms barely registers in his mind, yet he still manages to take a step back from Jack before Gwen walks in. Jack shoots him a sideways look and a small smile, as if he still found his reluctance to public displays of affection amusing.

"Morning!" She shouts across the Hub, almost happily, like every day. Even after everything that has happened in the last few months, they can rely on Gwen to keep smiling. "Sorry I'm late, had a bit of car trouble." She pauses for a second, murmuring greetings to the pictures of Tosh and Owen still on her desk. Ianto starts making his way towards the coffee machine, feeling Jack's eyes following him. "Oh, don't bother, Ianto, I grabbed a latte on the way in." She flashes him a smile that doesn't quite hide the tiredness, the tears and the doubts, just like every morning.

"I think we are going to need it..." Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jack retreating into his office, leaving it to him to break the news to Gwen. The coward! He smiles fondly, and starts plotting ways to make him pay for this. There are oh so many subtle and enjoyable ways to take revenge on Jack for things like this. "John Hart is in the vaults." Gwen falls onto her chair, gasping for words for a very long moment, her eyes going from Ianto to Jack's shadow behind the glass panels to the corridor that leads to the vaults.

"How?" Words finally come as a whisper. "What's he doing here, Ianto? How dare he come back, after...?" She never finishes the question. "What are going to do with him?" She sits back, hands on her lap, and stares at him, still a bit shocked about the idea of having John as a guest. "We can't really keep him there forever, can we?"

"Jack thinks he'll get bored soon and agree to leave." With a smile, Ianto sets a cup of coffee on her desk, and sits down on the sofa with his own drink, pushing away any thoughts of the moment Gwen just interrupted. In his office, Jack is shifting paperwork, and keeping an eye on the CCTV, most likely, John's cell. "If he doesn't..." He leaves the sentence in the air and shrugs.

"Why do you think he came back, Ianto?" Gwen spins her chair around, mug held tightly in her hands and pressed to her lips. "Oh, I don't know why I bother with that coffee shop, this is so much better." Ianto smiles at the compliment and bows his head.

"I try my best." He pauses for a second, considering. "I don't have the faintest idea why John Hart would want to come back." Other than Jack, of course. Or, apparently, Ianto Jones, who seemed to have peeked John's interest. But that is none of Gwen's business. "He doesn't think much of this place, so I couldn't tell why he's here again. He insists he has no hidden agenda this time." At that, Gwen snorts halfway through a sip of coffee.

"As if we would believe that one after..." Her eyes move to the two empty desks. They cleared them out before the grief had time to properly set in, but they haven't been touched since. Ianto stands up and pats her arm on the way to Jack's office. He knows Gwen needs someone to comfort her, but that someone isn't him.

"He knows we don't trust him." He pauses after a couple of steps. "I'm don't think even him saving the Universe would change that." He makes his way to the glass wall that separates the main area from Jack's world. From behind his desk, Jack looks up at him and raises his eyebrows. Ianto closes the door behind him. On the other side, Gwen pretends not to notice.

* * *

The alarms go off just as Ianto is putting away the last of the paperwork Jack's been going through for the last few hours. It is amazing the amount of documents a supposedly secret organization generates. Internal mission reports. Versions of those that can be sent to U.N.I.T, to Whitehall, to other Torchwood branches, none of which are exactly the same. Archive records for recovered items. Personnel files, again in different flavours, some for Torchwood eyes only, others written specifically for distribution outside the Hub. Forms and records of many kinds that he doubts anybody in the future will take any interest in. Still, as an Archivist, he understands better than most the need to preserve for posterity.

With a sigh, he puts away the papers and, straightening his tie, goes back to the main area of the Hub. Jack already has his coat on, and Gwen is furiously hitting a keyboard and cursing when the computer doesn't react as she wants it to. In a few quick steps, he is as his own desk, drawing from memory some of the most complex things he learnt from Tosh about the Hub's systems.

"It is not Rift activity." Gwen struggles to make her voice heard over the cacophony of alarms ringing. "Similar, but... definitely not Rift activity."

"No CCTV of that area, either." Jack looks at him and raises an eyebrow. "It's been blacked out." A few more keystrokes and the clamour around them dies. "It is some kind of time distortion, that is why the system picked it up, but it is not on record." His hands still over the keyboard for a moment. "It is strikingly similar to the signature of a Vortex Manipulator, but it isn't one."

"Uninvited time travellers?" Jack raises an eyebrow and shoots him a questioning look. He shakes his head. It's not the Doctor; he is sneakier than that, his TARDIS doesn't set off the alarms. "Let's go check it out." He exchanges a silent look with Gwen as they grab their weapons and run after Jack, already on his way out.

* * *

Jack parks the SUV – well, better said, brings it to a halt in the middle of the street – a couple of blocks away from where the signal was first detected. It is quiet, too quiet for the middle of the day. This is supposed to be a sleepy Cardiff suburb, but the silence is eerie and makes his hair stand on end as he gets off the vehicle. A couple of steps ahead of him, Jack scans the area with one of Tosh's portable wonders, and starts walking, disappearing from view as he turns the corner. Gwen follows Jack, and he takes the rear, eyes darting around.

Thoughts of the "camping trip" to the Brecon Beacons flood his mind; it is the same deceptive calm hiding horrors he can't even begin to imagine. As he reaches the junction, Jack stops, scanner in one hand, Webley in the other. Ianto takes a few steps until he is level with Gwen, catching the device as Jack tosses it to him and flips open his wriststrap. He takes a look at the readings on the small screen and frowns. They remind him of something he can't quite place.

"Do you hear that?" Gwen is barely whispering and he nearly misses her words in the increasing whirring noise that suddenly assaults his ears. He brings out his weapon and follows Jack as he runs towards the source of the noise, disappearing again. "What is it?"

He has a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling. One of those that grab him at the back of the neck and make him squirm and want to get out as soon as possible. Yet he trots after Jack, hand gripping his gun tight, Gwen behind him. Another corner, and he nearly bumps into Jack, standing in the middle of the road, staring ahead of him.

"Oh my!" Gwen's voice snaps him out of his own astonishment and he forces himself to process the scene in front of him. It looks like a crater, but there is none of the smoke and debris and heat he would expect in one. Besides, the object in the middle of it – metallic, ovoid and the size of an 18-wheel lorry – seems to be rising from it rather than sinking. He looks down to the scanner in his hand, now beeping furiously as the energy pattern becomes stronger and easier to recognize.

"It's folding space-time!" Both Jack and Gwen turn to look at him, and he raises an eyebrow. "Torchwood London was working on something similar." He nervously bites his bottom lip, swallowing hard as he tries to compose himself again. "They shelved the project when the... Ghost Shift started." The name still sends shivers down his spine, and he has to force too many memories away. "Tosh must have gotten the data from them; the software just recognized the energy signature." He still feels a pang of pain when he thinks about her, always happy when she found a new problem to immerse herself in. She would have found that data irresistible and found a way to make sense of it.

"Still doesn't tell us what it is." Gwen's voice trails off as Jack's slowly walks towards the crater, and Ianto can't help the knot on his stomach tightening with every step. He knows Jack can't stay dead, but it still shakes him to the core every time he dies. There is always the myriad of what if and what would he do questions. And the grief, and all the previous deaths he has witnessed, however brief, flashing through his mind. He shakes his head and trains his weapon on the object, shiny and solid and mockingly still. What good would a handgun be against something so big, or against whatever it holds inside?

Before he knows it, a small panel slides on the side of the metal egg, and a creature emerges from it, moving too fast to catch any kind of details. It jumps at Jack before any of them can even think of shooting at it. There's a blur of motion as man and alien roll on the ground, a sickening splatter of purple liquid – alien blood, maybe – and a pained scream. Before he knows what he's doing, he runs up to Jack and kicks the creature off him, silently thankful when Gwen starts shooting at it. Surprisingly, the thing squeals, cowers and runs back to the strange craft.

Ianto kneels by Jack and tries to keep a calm voice as he whispers nonsense while he checks the wounds. Barely scratches. Still alive, Jack grabs his hands and still them over his chest, where Ianto can feel the pounding heart.

"I'll be okay." Ianto takes a deep breath and nods. "Gwen, go back to the SUV and fetch the containment cell. The large one. We can't let those things get out." Slowly, a hand always close in case it is needed, Ianto helps Jack to his feet. "Once they are secured inside, we are going back to the Hub. We need some bigger guns to deal with this."

By the frown on Jack's face, Ianto can't help but wonder if that is all they'll need.


	5. Fourth Move

_**Fourth Move**_

The alarms go off as he's lying on his back, feet flat on the concrete bench, hands behind his head. He grins, imagining the three remaining members of Torchwood rushing about, getting ready to go out there and grab whatever has dared slip through the Rift. It has been four hours, thirty-eight minutes and forty three seconds since Ianto brought him in, and he is getting bored, but he won't give Jack the satisfaction of being right. Not just yet, anyway.

"I could give you a hand, you know?" The shout echoes in the cell. He knows Jack is watching; Jack is always watching. The only reply he gets is the growl of a Weevil. "Never mind, get yourself killed again if you want, Jack." He rolls his eyes when he realizes he has just used the same snark Ianto has been throwing at him. "Just make sure the others make it out in one piece, will you? I still think I have a chance with Eye Candy." No reply comes. Not that he was expecting one.

He closes his eyes, and allows himself to drift into sleep. Even rogue Time Agents need some rest from time to time.

* * *

He wakes up to the clatter of steps on concrete floors and raised voices. He yawns and strains his ears to make out the conversation, catching only snatches at first.

"... Need all the help we can get..." Ianto's voice, firm and determined. It would seem he is being the level-headed one in the argument, which doesn't come as a surprise. Ianto Jones, master of calm practicality, would be one to stand up to Jack. Discreetly, of course. Captain Harkness must maintain his aura of unquestioned authority.

"... Don't want him out of that cell..." Jack's reply is full of anger. The kind of anger he reserves for himself when he fucks up. The kind of anger that John knows only too well to stay away from, because it hurts, even when Jack doesn't mean to. The kind of anger that brings out the worst in Jack... unless appropriately channelled. He wonders whether Ianto has already learnt the best ways to do so.

"... Can't do it on our own..." He raises his eyebrows, applauding Eye Candy's bravery – or madness – for standing up to Jack like that. He likes a man who can stand his ground. Makes the hunt much more fun. Makes bringing down the prey much more satisfying.

"...Don't want him helping..." The voices get closer. He rolls on the narrow bench, lying on his stomach and bringing his bare feet up as he rests his chin on his hands, elbows protesting at the hard surface. Still he idly swings his feet back and forth. The perfect image of indolence.

"Is that you or your pride speaking, Jack?" The steps stop, and he can imagine the look on Jack's face, that uncontrollable rage racing through him and the deep breath before turning around and facing Ianto. For a second, he wonders if the next thing he'll hear will be a punch or a sob; Jack can be quite emotional when confronted like that. All he can pick up are murmurs, too faint to understand. After a minute, the steps resume. He puts on his best smile just as the two men appear on the door.

"So, how did the Weevil hunt go?" He keeps the grin on his face, despite the blood on Jack's shirt, despite the frown on Ianto's face. He can be a cold bastard when he wants to, and being locked in a cell kind of puts him in the mood for it, among other things. His eyes move from one man to the other, challenging them. Neither of them picks up the glove. With a sigh, he jumps out of the bench and moves towards the transparent wall. "Or was it something nastier?" He smiles again, all teeth and disdain.

"This is a bad idea." Jack spins around and faces Ianto, shaking his head. "We should..." His voice trails off as Ianto gives him a stern look. He watches the silent dialogue between them, ignoring the intimacy it reveals. Eventually, Ianto nods, Jack lets out a sigh and turns back towards him. He can't really tell which of the two just capitulated.

"You may want to reconsider leaving, Captain." Ianto's voice is calm as he takes a step forward and puts a hand on Jack's arms, yet John can spot the undercurrents in it. "There is, shall we say, an enemy at the gates. You probably don't want to be here if we don't make it. I hear they are... old acquaintances of yours." A ball of lead falls on his stomach; he can tell Eye Candy is not bluffing. And he's pissed off an amazing amount of people in his life. Most of them on purpose.

"You have to be kidding me." He raises his eyebrows and aims for carefree, but he's quite off the mark. "Captain Jack Harkness, and the great Torchwood, considering the possibility of defeat? Yet another cosmic joke." Two pairs of ice blue eyes glare at him. He rolls his eyes. Do they have to be so predictable? "So, who are the baddies?"

"Garg'kats." He swallows nervously as the grin dies on his lips. "I see you know them. I will fetch your things so you can leave if you want." John moves a step closer to the partition, catching Ianto's gaze before he walks away.

"My, my, you lot know how to make enemies." He shakes his head. "I will have to get you out of this one, won't I, Jack? Just like the old times. Wouldn't want Eye Candy here ending up in their hands." Ianto and Jack exchange a meaningful look that he can't quite decipher. "Now if I could get my weapons back, I may just be able to..."

He watches the battle raging in his former partner, his former lover, his former everything. Jack doesn't want him around, that much he knows. But keeping his team alive probably takes precedence, and Jack knows he is a good asset in a lost battle. Jack's lips press in a thin line John has seen countless times, and wonders what is going to be the price of his help being accepted.

"No." Jack's voice is final; so much for letting him help. "I only came down here to give you a chance to get out before things get really nasty. And that," he frowns, "was not my idea. If you are not leaving, you'll stay where you are. Let's see how you get out of it if they find you." Ianto rolls his eyes at Jack's reaction. "The last thing I need is you roaming around Cardiff while we try to get the situation under control."

"Under control? Stop fooling yourself, Jack, you know that is not going to happen!" He raises his voice so his words follow Jack as he walks away. "You need all the help that you can get and you know it!" Jack doesn't even look back. "Condemning the planet to save your fucking pride! You haven't changed at all!"

He hits the wall with a fist. It hurts, but he punches it again before turning around and hiding a pained expression from Ianto, still standing on the other side. He mutters a few more curses and colourful insults, waiting for him to follow Jack like the loyal soldier he is. Yet Eye Candy is still there when he walks back to the wall, watching him with an amused expression.

"You of all people should know that wouldn't make Jack change his mind." Ianto leans on the wall, feet crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest, just like Jack a few hours ago. They seem to have made an art of it, presenting similar poses when they are together, and exactly the same one when they are apart; they must have been together for quite some time, and an intense one at that, to mirror each other that closely.

He closes his eyes for a second, pushing memories of other times away. Sometimes he wishes he could forget. A couple of times he's even considered erasing his memories. He could do with forgetting the pain and the betrayals and the look in Jack's face every time he's thrown John out of his life. But there are snatches and moments he just can't let go.

"You of all people should know it feels good to rattle his world every now and again." He forces the bitterness out of his voice as he looks at Ianto again. "I'm sure you've done it plenty of times yourself. You are not one to take his word as gospel." Ianto snorts, looking away. "You trust him, you would follow him to Hell and back, but you are not afraid to confront him." A quiet nod, an inquisitive raised eyebrow. Does Ianto really think he's survived this long without being able to read people as if they were an open book? "Quietly, of course. He is, after all, Captain Harkness." Ianto's eyes open in surprise. "He needs that." For a moment, it looks like Eye Candy will agree, then he shakes his head.

"He is not the same man you knew." They hold each other's gaze, daring each other to be the first one to look away. "You have no idea what he needs." With a brisk move, Ianto pushes himself away from the wall and moves closer to the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes still on John.

"Oh, he can change all he wants, there are things that never do." He stares at Ianto, trying to decipher the conflict that barely shows under his usual calm manner. "He still fights for control, doesn't he? When you are tumbling in bed, all sweaty and needy, he never just lets go, even when he wants to surrender." He knows only too well that is so ingrained in Jack it will still be there in a million years, if he lives that long. "You have to take it from him. And he loves it when you do." Ianto's face remains the perfect mask of neutrality, as Ianto refuses to give anything away. "He trusts you with his life, even if that doesn't mean that much for his Immortalness now, and he trusts you even when you don't think he should." That had always been Jack's undoing. Ianto's eyes widen, but his expression doesn't change.

"You should really take the offer, Captain, and get out of here while you can." Ianto starts to walk away, politely stepping away from a conversation he doesn't want to have, refusing to enter into an argument with him. "We'll be heading out again shortly, so, if you change your mind, just shout. Someone may hear you, and bring back your stuff." John hits the wall again.

"Just the three of you? You don't stand a chance." Ianto pauses for a second, but doesn't look back. He waits for a second, two, three. "I can help. I know them. I have fought them before!" The possibilities spin in his head. Even if they called in for help from any other secret organization that may exist in this time, it won't be easy. They don't have the technology, not yet. He has a few tricks up his sleeve that may save some lives. Preferably the ones he cares about. Ianto stops in his tracks; John rolls his eyes. Will they ever listen to him, not just pretend to?

"What can you tell us about them, then?" Eventually, Eye Candy turns around and takes a couple of steps back. Tantalizingly close, yet too far away. He growls in frustration and forces himself to take a deep breath. Losing his temper, allowing the distance Ianto keeps with him to affect him, will not get him anywhere.

"Ask Jack." The retort comes out automatically, and he just about manages to bite his tongue before he says something he may regret. Not that he's ever been known for carefully choosing his words, but there is no need to drive Ianto away by being harsh.

"I'm asking you, Captain. If you want to make yourself useful, tell me what you know." He lets out a sigh. Maybe he should take the offer, leave this pathetic place behind and lose himself in a haze of alcohol, drugs and sex. The only problem is, he already tried that. And it didn't work. Neither did rehab. He is not leaving. He can't. He's trapped in the here and now because Jack, and Ianto, and all the good times they shared, and the ones they will share, are here.

"Not if you are keeping me in this cage, Eye Candy." He stares at Ianto for a second, taking in the sight, wondering what it is going to take to get Ianto to admit the thoughts he knows are crossing that wonderful 21st century mind. "If you want my help, you will get me out of here, return my weapons – all of them – and my Vortex Manipulator, and I will accompany you."

"Not an option." Ianto moves away again, and, this time, he doesn't look back.

"Then you are all dead!" The shout rings down the vaults, but Eye Candy keeps walking. He sits on the bench, bringing one foot up and draping an arm over his knee. "Which is a pity. You, dying before I get a chance to shag you." He doesn't need to see it to know Ianto is rolling his eyes.

_**Countermeasure**_

Jack is already in the armoury by the time Ianto returns to the main area of the Hub. What has John told him? He knows he should tell them more about the Garg'kats, but both Ianto and Gwen already have more than enough nightmares. He doesn't want to add to them. With a sigh, he grabs some heavy gear that has not been used for a long time, if at all.

He can just about see Gwen out of the corner of his eye, still at her desk, on the phone, probably assuring the Police and any other agency that Torchwood, as usual, has everything under control. He snorts at the thought as he leans on the table in the middle of the room. They seem to barely hold it together these days. They need to recruit. But he can't get himself to bring more people into this madness. Behind him, quiet steps approach and the door closes. He's not sure he can face Ianto right now.

"Jack?" He can't help the smirk on his lips. Ianto knows him too well, and would never ask. Yet he'll always get the answers he wants, even if he doesn't really want to give them. How does he manage that?

"He's not coming." There's a bitterness in his voice he's not sure he can account for. "He's always trouble when things get complicated." Ianto's hand on his back, a soft touch, a gentle reminder that Captain Harkness is not responsible for the fate of the whole planet, because that is something no man could bear on his shoulders. "Do you really think he could help?" Once again, relying on Ianto's honesty. The one thing he can always count on.

"He knows what to do with a gun, that is a start." He shakes his head. "He knows these... Garg'kats. He's a fighter, Jack, you know that." He turns around, looking out through the glass walls to Gwen, still on the phone. To the empty desks. Ianto seems to be following his thoughts. "There are only three of us. I heard Gwen telling U.N.I.T we had it covered, and even if we called for backup it would take them a couple of hours to get here, rapid response and all."

"U.N.I.T are dealing with their own problems right now. The one we found was not the only pod to come through" Of course it isn't. Things can never be simple and easy, can they? "He should have left." With that, he starts moving around the room, looking for the one item he needs.

"He could have, but he didn't." A pause, barely a second. "We could really use his help." Grabbing a couple of magazines for his sidearm, Ianto walks out of the room, leaving him with more unanswered questions that he had a moment ago.

* * *

Jack tries to concentrate on driving through the empty streets of Cardiff, while Ianto widens the scan for the energy pattern and Gwen, in the back seat, mumbles to herself trying to get any up to date information about the multiple points where pods have appeared. He can't help but think they really need to get over it and hire someone to deal with the tech. Not that anybody could really replace Toshiko, her understanding of the Universe in general and technology in particular and her quiet presence.

"Are they still in the containment cell?"

"Yep." Ianto, always loyal, always quiet, hasn't mentioned John since they left the armoury. He is right, they need all the help they can get. Garg'kats are not supposed to contact the human race for several centuries, and when they eventually do, all Hell will break loose. His whole body is tingling, and not in a good way. As if somebody were playing with the timelines, not even aware of the chaos it could create.

"Got something!" He looks at Gwen on the rear view mirror, a smile of triumph in her face. "The one we found was the first one to appear. It seems to be leading the pack. Maybe if we find a way to send that one back, the others will follow." She looks at Ianto, then at him. "Any ideas?"

His mind drifts away as Ianto goes over any scrap of information about space-time folding he ever came across at Torchwood London, and Gwen tries to keep up. He is still trying to figure out what John's plan is; he knows that rogue too well, there's got to be a con somewhere in all of this. By the look on his face when Ianto explained the situation, John's probably got nothing to do with the arrival of the Garg'kats. But he still can't believe the only thing that brought him back to 21st century Cardiff is Ianto Jones.

He snorts. Ianto gives him a puzzled look. Places a hand on his shoulder. Reassuring, calming. Ianto's way of saying 'we will fix this, stop worrying'. He tries to smile back. Then it hits him. When he ran away with the Doctor, searching for answers he never really got, he came back here. Of all the time and space, he chose to come back _here_ and _now_. Because Ianto is here. Because Torchwood is here. Could John be telling the truth?

Not that it matters. He made his choice the first time John visited. Ianto made his choice last night. Keeping that walking temptation around won't help.

"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?" Gwen's voice eventually shakes him out of his thoughts. He smiles guiltily at her.

"I think that's a no." Thank you, Ianto, for backing her up. As if she didn't manage well enough on her own. He glares at him for the minute it takes him to admit he is really annoyed with himself. He knows the effect John has on him, even after all these years; he should know better than to let John distract him. Ianto holds his gaze, unwavering. "Gwen's got a plan."


	6. Fifth Move

_**Fifth move**_

He hates this. Lying in the hard concrete bench, hands behind his back, he just can't take it anymore. He's never found it easy to deal with quiet periods with nothing to do. He is bored and tired of waiting, and playing up memories and fantasies in his head is losing its appeal after a few hours. That is, if making himself uncomfortable in his own skin thinking about what he would love to be doing with Eye Candy and Jack right now ever was appealing. Which, for some reason, it was.

If he doesn't find something to entertain him, he'll end up worrying about them, wondering whether they actually stand a chance against the Garg'kats. Jack, of course, will be all right – unless he's captured. His body will heal, and he's always had his own way of dealing with the scars in his soul, even if the methods he used when he was still a Time Agent would not be therapist-approved in any century he's visited. Jack may have changed, as Ianto said, and no longer seek to lose himself in the here and now of his most wicked fantasies when he needs to forget... Not likely; old habits die hard.

Eye Candy, on the other hand, could get hurt, and that would be a tragedy. For one, he'd lose his chance to get into his bed, unless he went back in time and met him at a different point in his personal time line. Which could be tricky, and fuck up events he has already lived through. And he really doesn't want to have to find another way around Gray's manipulations that wouldn't end up with Jack being tortured for eternity by his half-mad brother; once was enough even for him. And of course, Jack has never been one to take comfort in a new lover after losing one, he always needed his time to mope and get over it, so that would probably blow his chances of getting into Jack's bed as well, at least for some time.

A knock on the wall brings him out of his thoughts. He tilts his head until he can see his visitor. Ianto looks exhausted and worried, every now and again biting his lower lip. He has lost his waistcoat and one side of his shirt is splattered with blood. The kid needs a shower, a hearty meal, and someone to comfort him through the night. Jack is nowhere to be seen.

"How did it go?" He doesn't even bother to get up from the bench. This time it is Ianto who hits the wall. "Ah. That bad?" Ianto turns around and rests his back on the cell door. He shakes his head; Eye Candy seems to get careless when tired. "Where's Poster Boy?"

"He's dead."

The words hit him hard. He knows Jack will come back, but it still takes a moment until his mind kicks in and he stops feeling he can't breathe.

"What do you mean, he's dead?" He jumps off the bench and faces Ianto, barely an inch away, with only glass between them. "He knows what those things do, and he lets himself be _killed_? He's slipping. Getting sloppy." He punches the wall again, and this time it really hurts. "What the Hell was he thinking?" He has to admit this is an option that never crossed his mind.

"He helped us get out." Eye Candy's usually calm voice is shaky. "Don't worry, we are going to sort this mess." There is a look of determination in Ianto's face. Loyal to the last, even if it meant jumping straight into certain death. Admirable, if a bit foolish. "And you," Ianto adds, fiddling with the controls of the cell, "are going to help us." He snorts and gives Ianto a questioning look.

"He is going to kill you for this, you know?" He steps out of the cell, stretching his arms above him, catching Ianto's eyes as they roam to his waist when his t-shirt rides up revealing skin. He gives Eye Candy an inviting smile and enjoys the blush that rushes to his cheeks.

"If we fail, I will be dead anyway." Not a hint of regret, just facts. "If we survive... he'll be too glad to bear a grudge for long." He starts walking towards the exit, all too aware of the presence behind him. Jack has taught them well, he's got to give him that.

"I dare say you also know how to earn his forgiveness." He turns his head around and raises his eyebrows. Ianto turns all shades of red, but manages to keep a straight face. "Oh, I'd love to exchange tricks with you, Eye Candy, but I've always been a show rather than tell man." He looks ahead of him again. The image of Ianto considering the implications for a second, before filing his invitation away for further processing, makes him wonder if he is closer to his goal than he suspects.

"So, these Garg'kats. What can we do?" Ianto pauses for a second, probably considering his next words, as they make their way to the main level of the Hub. "Jack won't tell us much about them, and that is rare. There is nothing in the Archives, or in the database." He wonders, for a second, how much to tell the kid. He doesn't doubt he can handle the truth; he knows nobody should go into a battle blind. But there is a fine line between knowing enough to save his life when things get tough, and being haunted by nightmares for knowing too much. Ianto looks like he has had enough nightmares in his life, and he is not about to add to them.

"Trust him to tell you what you need to know." Barely a whisper as Ianto finally overtakes him and enters the armoury. "Don't get too close to them, don't let them capture you, and don't get caught in the splash when you shoot them. That'll be enough to keep you alive." He walks in behind him, hands reaching for the Vortex Manipulator while Ianto holds his boots and jacket for him. As he ties the leather wriststrap on his right hand, he allows himself to relax just a little, then a bit more as he does up the gun belt around his hips. With a sigh, he takes the boots from Ianto and slips into them, all too aware of the eyes following his every move.

"The rest of your weapons are over there." Ianto points to a tray on the back of the room and hands him his sword as he stands up again, squeezing past him. He smiles; even such a brief contact makes him yearn for more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Jack, steaming with anger as he walks towards him, hands still busy doing up the buttons of his shirt. He must have just changed into clean clothes after coming back to life. Ianto, always the peacekeeper, stops Jack before he reaches the armoury. He takes a deep breath, failing to push away the images that fill his head every single time he sees those two together.

He turns around as he slips all his weapons in the right places – which takes time and concentration, since Eye Candy actually found them all – and watches as Ianto placates Jack with a soft voice and words he can't quite make out. Watches as Ianto sneaks a hand to Jack's neck and closes the distance between them for a kiss he would love to be in the receiving end of. Watches as Jack keeps his eyes on him, hands firmly on Ianto's waist. He gives him a grin in return and carries on hiding weapons, ignoring the hint of possessiveness in Jack's gesture.

For a second, he considers what Jack's reaction would be if he approached them, if he pressed himself against Ianto's back and joined in. Eye Candy himself would probably have his head, or stun him again and throw him back in the cell, conveniently losing the key in the process. That is, if Jack didn't get to it first. Although something in Jack's eyes feels more like invitation than reminder to stay away. He snorts. No need to rush. He'll get what he wants, even if it takes a bit more patience than he is used to.

"I think PC Cooper would want to know when you two are done snogging the living lights out of each other so she can join us and discuss our strategy." Ianto jumps in Jack's arms and tries to walk away, but Jack holds him close. Gwen, who has been, for the last couple of minutes, hiding in the shadows of the passage he and Ianto just followed, comes out into the main space, trying not to blush and shooting John yet another murdering look. "Join the club, darling, I think these two will want to slaughter me first, you'll have to wait your turn."

"Is this really a good idea, Jack? Last time he helped..." Slotting the last knife in place, John leaves the armoury and takes in the tense situation in the room.

"It could have been much worse if he hadn't." Ianto's tone does not leave much room for discussion, even though it is obvious neither of the other two like the idea. "We need everything we can get, Gwen." She bites her lip as she reluctantly nods. Ianto turns to Jack, a silent question in his eyes.

"Can we trust him not to disappear and leave us to our own devices?" He rolls his eyes. Should have known Gwen would object. Of course they can trust him. He may not be in here for the right reasons, but he wants Jack alive. And Eye Candy. And maybe even Gwen if he wasn't sure she'd shoot him if he ever so much as tried to kiss her again. Not that he blames her, after the paralysing lip gloss.

"Of course we can. John's coming. But," he says, putting a hand in his pocket, "with these." He examines the objects Jack is holding. Two simple metal bracelets, identical to each other, shine in the unnatural light of the Hub. He closes his eyes and swallows. He has seen that intricate weave of metal before, and he knows full well what their purpose is.

"What range?" The question comes out before he's thought it through, as Ianto and Gwen shoot quizzical looks to everybody, and eventually shrug to each other.

"Enough to cross half of Wales, if you wanted to." Jack's voice is cold, but there is a hint of something else he can't quite place in it. "But you are tied to this time." He swallows. So, no emergency jump to a time when he could keep his skin on. He raises his eyebrows, and stares at Jack, calling what he hopes is a bluff. After a few moments, it becomes obvious it isn't one. He looks at his feet and considers the options. Then he looks up at Jack again and nods.

"But not you." Jack tilts his head, daring him to pull a trick on him. "Ianto." Jack snorts and for a second he thinks the Captain may not agree. "I don't mind you wanting me chained to this pathetic century of yours, I don't mind you not trusting me enough to let me accompany you without a leash. You know me, I'm not averse to chains, leashes and other bedroom accessories. But I won't be tied to you. Not again."

Eye Candy shoots him a look at the last remark, and he makes a mental note to tell him the story one day. Gwen is looking from him to Jack and then to Ianto, trying to figure out exactly what is going on. When the other two men engage in another of their silent conversations, he flashes her a smile and throws her a kiss. She nearly stabs him with a look. Eventually, after much muttered explanation and murmured rebuttal, Ianto takes one of the bracelets from Jack's hands and ties it around his own wrist. Taking the other, Eye Candy approaches him.

"Hand." Reluctantly, he obeys, presenting his left hand and barely manages not to shiver when the metal closes around it and Ianto's fingers ghost over his skin. He hates the things, but if that is the price to pay for what he wants, he'll pay it. Not gladly... He takes a deep breath, concentrating on the warmth of Ianto's hands, until they pull away and he's left with the coldness of the bracelet. He gives Ianto a coy look as the other man slowly realizes the full implications of the link the two items establish.

"No, I can't sense your mind, Eye Candy, but you are stuck with mine until you," he lifts his hand and shakes the bracelet, "take this thing off me." He gives them all a smug smile. "Enjoy the ride." As he turns around, Ianto rolls his eyes. He doesn't need a mind link to know what he's thinking. "So, shall we talk strategy?"

"I think... I need a moment." There's barely a hint of hesitation in Ianto's voice as he walks back into the depths of the Hub. Gwen looks from him to Jack to Ianto and back, wide-eyed, wondering what is going on. When he makes a move to follow Eye Candy, Jack grabs his arm.

"You stay away from him!" The look in Jack's eyes stops him in his tracks. "You have done enough already. You are going back into that cell as soon as we fix this, and I will make sure I lose the key." Ah, there it is, the threat of eternal imprisonment. He rolls his eyes.

"What the Hell is going on, Vera?" Gwen is looking at him now, expecting all the details she knows Jack and Ianto will not give her. He smiles and pats her arm.

"Nothing to worry about, PC Cooper. Eye Candy is just finding out for himself why Jack was so reluctant to let him bond with me."

"Bond? You mean, he can...?"

"No, it's not like that. He can't read my thoughts. He can just... sense my mind. Emotions, feelings. He'll know if I'm hurt, he'll know if I am planning something I shouldn't. Which I most definitely am. All kind of things that involve him. And Jack. I would even include you if I didn't think you would shoot me." She takes a step away from him, caught somewhere between laughing and glaring at him.

"You are such a bastard."

"I try my best." He takes a bow, keeping his eyes on her. She shakes his head and walks to her workstation. He takes the chance to sneak after the turtledoves.

**_Countermeasure_**

Ianto takes refuge in one of the small storage rooms along the corridor, hidden from full view by a rickety shelving unit that has seen better days, welcoming the cold seeping through his many layers of clothing from the stone wall as he leans against it. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and tries to regain control of himself.

"I warned you it would be... intense." Jack's voice slowly filters through the cotton wool currently filling his brain as steps slowly approach him in the dimly lit room. "I could do it, if you..."

"No." His voice is a bit shakier than he'd like, but it will have to do, given the circumstances. When Jack explained the kind of link the bracelets established, he hadn't quite pictured this. It is nearly overpowering, and he can't really tell whether it has to do with the link itself or with the fact that the person on the other side is none other than John Hart. For a second, he wonders what it would be like to "chain" Jack in this way. With a smirk, he files the thought away; he'll most definitely be trying that one. "We made a deal, and I intend to keep it."

"He's playing us, Ianto." There's a bit of resentment in Jack's voice, and Ianto can't say he blames him. "He's always playing everybody." Jack moves a bit closer, and Ianto shivers. It feels like all his senses are on fire. Is this how Jack and John see the world, so... vivid? It would explain a few things.

"Still, we made a deal. I'm not about to break it." He gives Jack a stern look that he hopes will do the trick. Raising an eyebrow, the other man shrugs, then runs a finger along his jawline. Barely a touch. Ianto moans before he can bite his lip.

"I'm not about to let you out in the field, to fight a threat like this, with your mind full of John's..." Jack presses his body against Ianto's, and rests his head on his shoulder. "I know how intense he can be." In the silence, he can nearly hear Jack wondering whether to let him into the secret of not. "I was supposed to hold him on a tight leash when we were partners. Back in our days in the Agency. He used to sit across the room, looking smug and cool and not at all aware that I was around," a hand crawls up his side, trailing lightly, "and all of a sudden this... wave of... want and lust and here and now would crash over me through the link and it was all I could do not to drag him out there and then."

"How...?" His throat is dry, and Jack's presence and his voice and what he's telling him is not precisely helping. "How did you handle it? Him?" Jack holds him tight and chuckles, warm breath ghosting over his neck.

"I don't think I ever did. I used to give in to him quite often." He snorts. Jack can't possibly be proposing... Because he wouldn't. Would he? He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest.

"I'm not about to drag John Hart into my bed, if that is what you are suggesting." He rakes his nails on Jack's back, wishing his brain would stop reminding him for one fucking minute that the world may be coming to an end out there while he is in the basement with Jack.

"Not what I had in mind." Barely a whisper in his ear, while a hand treads playfully down his chest, down past his belt and barely brushes against him, and oh God, he's hard. "I can help you clear your mind." Jack's words shoot straight through his body and he shudders. "Although if you'd rather deal with John himself..." Jack makes to move away. He digs his fingers on Jack's forearm, keeping him in place, and shakes his head.

"Please." He's not entirely sure what he's pleading for, but the combination of Jack holding him and teasing him and John projecting the most unexpected – yet pleasurable – ideas through the link have completely short-circuited his brain. When Jack sinks to his knees in front of him, Ianto lets out a strangled noise. When Jack carefully undoes his belt, his hands scramble for purchase on the smooth wall, and when Jack undoes his flies and pushes down his underwear just enough, he is pretty sure his brain stops working.

Jack nuzzles and licks and gently bites and teases, murmuring nonsense he doesn't quite register as he cards his fingers through dark hair, trying to nudge Jack to exactly where he wants him. When he looks down, frustrated at Jack's teasing, all he gets is a smile and an innocent look. He smiles back, wondering what game they're supposed to be playing.

As he closes his eyes, a very vivid image of John on his knees, at his feet, hits his mind through the link. He forces himself to look at Jack again, still teasing him as if they had all the time in the world. He's always enjoyed that about Jack, how he approaches any moment of sex as if time didn't matter, regardless of where and when they were. Looking towards the half-open door, he curses Jack for leaving it open. He still remembers the adrenaline rush when Gwen caught them in the hothouse... Maybe that is why Jack enjoys getting caught so much.

"Hands behind your back." The words come out before he realizes, as he looks down at Jack again. Hands trail down his thighs, teasing, light touches. Eventually Jack does as he's been told, and something jolts though his body at the thought. With a gentle push of his hand, he guides Jack head forwards, eyes still fixed on that tempting mouth.

He drinks in the sight of Jack, eyes closed and rapt expression as he sucks and licks and makes him moan. He catches a glimpse of movement and red coat out of the corner of his eye. When he lifts his head, his breath catches in his throat. John Hart has sneaked into the room and is leaning against the wall opposite him, half hidden behind shelves and cardboard boxes, eyes wide open, enjoying the show. Images spin in his head faster than before, mostly featuring John taking Jack's place, all cockiness and attitude forgotten as he loses himself in the motions of sex. He blames it on the link; after all, he's not interested in John. He's not curious. He's not wondering how it would feel if Hart knelt in front of him. John probably would try to be in charge, as he always seems to do. And, even if he will never admit it to anybody other than Jack, he likes taking control.

Hands crawl up his thighs and settle on his ass, and Ianto gives Jack a stern look. Jack's lips twitch into a smile. So that's it today, then. Submitting but still resisting, pliant but fighting back. He tightens his grip on Jack's hair, just a fraction.

"I said, hands behind your back." He barely manages to keep his voice steady. Jack trails fingers down his thighs before obeying. On the other side of the room, John holds his gaze for a moment, before reluctantly following suit. For a moment, he manages to form a coherent thought and wonder what the Hell Hart is getting out of this, but just then Jack flicks his tongue _just so_ and he just melts, pleasure and fire coursing through his body as he comes, biting his lip. A moment later, he's pushing Jack onto his feet, and kissing him mercilessly.

He blushes as realization hits him. He holds on to Jack, breath still ragged, staring defiantly at the man across the room. Some days his life is all fucked up. Today seems completely resolved to make even those days seem normal.

On the other hand, John seems to have stopped projecting over the link. He allows himself a smirk. Ianto Jones wins the round again. He takes a deep breath as he rearranges his clothes, pushing Jack for another kiss. He's just about ready to get back to saving the world when Jack rests his chin on his shoulder again.

"Do you think he enjoyed the show?" Jack's voice is playful and full of laughter. He curses. Loudly. In Welsh.


	7. Sixth Move

_**Sixth move**_

He tries to keep his steps quiet, even though he's sure His Immortalness and Eye Candy are too occupied with each other right now to notice a whole swarm of world devourers running down the ill-lit corridors. He can't help the smug smile on his face; after all, not every day does someone manage to shake Ianto Jones out of his comfort zone like he has... particularly not without even getting close to him. He's nearly enjoying the bracelets this time, knowing that, regardless of how much Jack may have told him about the link, Ianto must have been taken by surprise when it was actually established. Smothering a laugh, he keeps his mind toying with the many things he would like to do to – and with – Ianto.

They are easier to find than he expected, Ianto's moans and muttered curses echoing loudly in the concrete walls. Even PC Cooper back by the water tower may be able to hear them if they keep it like that. Standing outside a half-opened door, he drinks in the sight on the other side of the room: Eye Candy barely holding it together, leaning against the wall, Jack on his knees in front of him, and he is missing most of the action thanks to the shelves and boxes in the way. Slowly, he slips into the room and finds a better viewpoint, not sure whether to stay in the shadows and enjoy the show, or interrupt. Maybe join in. By the Goddesses he'd love to take Jack's place right now, get a taste of Ianto... Not that he gets on his knees for everybody – he still has standards – but Eye Candy...

Taking a deep breath, he swallows hard. His jeans feel way too tight. Jack must have fucked up again and the bracelets must be working both ways, cos there is no way watching, just _watching_, however much he has always enjoyed it, could have him this hot and bothered. Not even the ex-lover that still gives him the best fantasies, or the lover he hasn't dragged into his bed yet. Slowly, he undoes his belt and sneaks a hand into his jeans, biting his bottom lip to keep silent.

"Hands behind your back." Ianto's voice is surprisingly steady and strong, taking into account the things Jack must be doing to him. Because one has to give it to Jack, he is extraordinarily good at everything he does, including sex. _Especially _sex. He shivers as that low, inviting voice shoots straight through his body, and he can barely breathe when Jack, obediently, takes his hands off Ianto and holds them demurely behind his back, only the smirk on his face giving away how much he's enjoying the game. The thrill Eye Candy poses as prey has just gone up; anybody who can get Jack Harkness to submit that easily is a challenge he just has to take. Would Ianto find it so easy to get him to obey?

Then Ianto lifts his head, and looks straight at him. He prays to Goddesses he's never really believed in that this is not the end of the show, because he is really enjoying it. Without really thinking, he falls back to the old trick he used to pull on Jack, throwing every ounce of desperate desire and want and need at Ianto. Eye Candy doesn't look away, just holds his gaze, defiantly. As if he were staking his claim on Jack. John gives him his best smirk, and a promise that soon, soon, Ianto Jones would end up in his bed. Willingly. Because that is the way he does things.

Jack's hands crawl up Ianto's body again, but the kid is having none of it. A gentle pull on Jack's hair, a stern look, and John would kill to be in Jack's place. Ianto seems to be one of those few people across time and space that could, perhaps, as Jack put it so long ago, 'handle him'. And much as he likes to be in charge, he's always admitted he loves finding those that will set their own rules and make him submit.

"I said, hands behind your back." Ianto's eyes are on him again, and, before he knows it, he's pulled his hand out of his jeans and is holding his elbows behind his back. Something – electricity, want, need – jolts through his body. Oh, Eye Candy will be such a prize when he gets to him... He can see the surprise in the kid's eyes, the amazement, the curiosity. He raises an eyebrow. John Hart wins this round, even if it is Jack who makes Ianto come with a strangled moan and biting his own lips. A moment later, Ianto is pushing Jack onto his feet, and kissing him mercilessly, and blushing so adorably he can barely wait to lay his hands on him.

Just as they are getting ready to leave, Jack murmurs something on Ianto's ear, and Eye Candy curses as Jack's laughter echoes in the room. He barely manages to smother his own. Did Jack know he was there? He probably noticed; eyes on his back, that man has sometimes. Breath still ragged, he watches them leave, Ianto pausing for a moment with a hand on the door, looking back at him.

"I hope you enjoyed that, Captain. Because that's as close as you are ever going to get to either of us." With that, Eye Candy leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. Closing his eyes, he sneaks a hand into his jeans again. There's no way in Hell he'll manage to shoot straight unless he takes care of this hard-on first.

* * *

"So, shall we talk strategy now that we are all a bit more relaxed?" Thumbs tucked in his gun belt, he walks back into the main area of the palace under the pavement. Eye Candy is standing by his coffee machine, brewing what smells like the best drink this side of the Medusa Cascade. There is something about the look on his face, about the careful, controlled movements as he handles the coffee, the mugs, that he can't quite decipher. Perhaps the kid is finally coming around. Or maybe it's just frustration. Standing by one of the workstations, Gwen is confronting Jack in a way she should know by now will get her, at most, a headache.

"Coffee, Captain?" He nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice behind him. He's slipping; nobody should be able to get this close if he doesn't want them to. Maybe that is the problem; he wants Ianto as close as he can get him. Smirk on his lips, he turns around and grabs the mug from Eye Candy's hands. Fingers brush and linger for a moment, not only on his part. His mind goes up on fire again; Ianto closes his eyes and swallows. Of course, the bracelets. He takes a deep breath and tries to clear his head; he can't have the kid going out to save the world when he can't think straight. When he opens his eyes again, Eye Candy gives him a curt nod. It'll have to do as thank you note for now.

He brings the mug under his nose and breathes deeply, the rich aroma filling his nostrils, and raises an eyebrow appreciatively; Ianto's lips curl in the beginning of a smile. He takes a sip, knowing Eye Candy is not the type of man to sneak him something nasty in his drink. Some say what a man drinks says a lot about him, and Eye Candy's coffee seems to confirm it: strong, rich flavour, the right balance of sweet boldness and bitterness.

"Wow." Definitely best coffee in the galaxy. And he's probably drunk enough of the stuff in his life to grant that title knowingly. Just for this, Jack would be a fool not to keep him around. Ianto snorts and nearly rolls his eyes, but catches himself in time. He tries very hard not to laugh.

"I get that a lot." Carefully balancing the tray with three more mugs, Eye Candy starts walking towards the others, Jack's eyes following him from above, so many things reflected on them. John swallows the pain of another stab. Jack always knew how to mark his territory without even having to blink.

"Are you two coming or what?" Jack's voice booms and echoes in the open space; he's smiling, the bastard, until Ianto shoots him a murderous look as he passes coffee mugs around. He watches the whole eye conversation they have. Old habits die hard; reading a partner like an open book is second nature. So does pretending it doesn't hurt.

"I was earlier... after that show you two put up for me." He grins; Ianto rolls his eyes, annoyance and resignation showing on his pretty face. Jack pretends he hasn't heard and keeps scanning the screen in front of him. "Seriously Eye Candy... do you ever do any archiving down there, or is it all shagging Jack?"

"If you all could, just for a moment, focus," Gwen puts her cup down and stares at the three of them, voice cutting like glass, "we just may make it through this so Jack can lock you into that cell again and I can retcon today out of my mind." He gives her a poker look. She buys it.

* * *

"Are you sure they are still contained?" He's asked the same thing four times in the twelve minutes, three seconds they've been on the SUV. Jack takes another corner in such a way it is a miracle the vehicle doesn't overturn.

"Yes!" He smiles as two Welsh voices reply in unison from the back seat amongst the clicking and clattering of keyboards. Gwen is still angry at him for riding shotgun, taking Ianto's place; strangely enough, she seems protective of the turtle-doves. As if they needed it.

"Okay, okay. Just checking. Those creatures are sneaky little bastards." Another bend, wheels screeching again. "And you seriously don't want them to get loose. How much battery in that inflatable cell of yours?" Gwen opens her mouth to reply, then closes it again, looking at Ianto for information. Eye Candy swears under his breath.

"John's right." Ah, the sweetness of those words. "Just a few minutes left." A pause, a quick check of the time, a quick burst of typing on the keyboard. "Eight minutes, forty seconds. Thirty-nine."

"See, told you, you need me in the team." He can't help the smug smile. He loves being right. Comes with the job; Time Agents don't survive long if they make a habit of being wrong. "You'd better have a backup, Jack."

"Shut. Up." Back in full Captain Harkness mode, Jack doesn't even look at him. "Ianto! Do we have a backup, or a spare?"

"Nope." Of course they wouldn't. One of the most useful items in the galaxy when one needs to capture living creatures, and of course Torchwood don't have spare ones. Not that he can blame them; they are not supposed to be invented for another six hundred years. Not even that tech genius, Toshiko, could have figured them out. Not without Jack nudging her in the right direction. "Not that size, anyway. And, unfortunately, we can't just change the batteries in it." Just the cue he's been waiting for.

"Actually, we can." The three of them look at him; Jack only brings his eyes back to the road after the angry sound of a horn. "Well, when I say we, I mean I know how to."

"You are not the only one, smart-ass." Taking a deep breath, he struggles to keep calm. He can't let Jack get to him. Not now. Ianto needs to be able to focus.

"Oh, and, did I mention, I happen to carry a set of batteries on me?" Jack laughs. "Seriously, Jack, didn't you learn anything from that time when...?"

"Shut it!" Jack's voice has lost part of the coldness he's been giving him since he arrived. It's one thing he learnt a long time ago: the good old times are still the good old times, even if the present is better. Maybe, just maybe, he's still got a chance. "I'll go in and swap it." John rolls his eyes. Three, two, one...

"And then?" PC Cooper beats Ianto to the question. "We can't just keep them there, in the open, for everybody to see. Batteries will run out again, anyway."

"We'll think of something." There's a hint of anger in Jack's voice. How does he manage to run Torchwood if anything that catches them by surprise hits him in the head with a 'you should have seen this coming' moment?

"But..." Glancing at the back seat, he notices Ianto placing a hand on Gwen's arm and shaking his head; it looks like Eye Candy knows how to read their fearless leaders.

"I said, we'll think of something."

_**Countermeasure**_

She's having a bad day. Scrap that, she's having a Bad Day, in capitals. In bold, italics, highlighted. Having John Hart around is never good news. But this, letting him help, is madness. And she shouldn't have let Jack drive. Ianto can be a bit of a dangerous driver sometimes, but never as scary as Jack. Just because _he_ can't die, he shouldn't drive like none of his passengers can't either. Maybe she should send a memo around. Although something tells her Jack doesn't read them. Not even when he disappears into his office with that excuse.

She's not even sure what John is doing out of the vaults. Yes, they need help. Hell, she's been trying to get Jack to get some new people in ever since Tosh and Owen... She shakes her head, trying not to think too much about them. Callous as it may look, and reticent as Jack may be to replace them, they have to. Before it is too late and all that is left of Torchwood Three is Jack.

But definitely _not_ with John Hart. He always leaves a mess behind, and, besides, both Jack and Ianto have been acting strange around him. Jack seems... unsettled, nearly angry. John must be getting on his nerves as much as he is on hers. Ianto appears to be... distracted, even a bit twitchy. Must be the bloody bracelet linking him to John. She'd be on edge as well if she was chained to a homicidal maniac with a penchant for grand entrances.

For a moment, the tension between the three of them seems to rise, as if this were a Mexican stand-off without guns. Mind you, not that they need them. They can shoot murderous looks all around with just about the same ease as they... Well. Better not think too hard about that either. Would Jack mind if she shot John right now? Ianto definitely would, even if she offered to clean the mess herself. Jack looks at her through the rear view mirror. She takes a deep breath. Maybe after they solve this.

She watches the conversation unfold around her. Snarky comments that make her miss Owen, who would have come up with something to throw back at John. Judging by the way Jack is snapping back at John, he must be quite angry. Not that she can't blame him – she still thinks having John out of the vaults is not a good idea.

The idea of retcon is looking more appealing by the minute. Although, knowing her luck, retcon wouldn't take, and it would all just come rushing back the moment she walked back into the Hub. Still, no harm in trying. If they make it through the day.


	8. Seventh Move

_**Seventh Move**_

"Yes, Jack, we'll think of something. Hopefully, before anybody gets killed." Jack lets out a heavy sigh and shoots him a sideways look as he brings the SUV to a halt. Without the noise of the engine, it is too quiet for this time of the day. He takes in the sight in front of him. It looks like a crater, but there is none of the smoke and debris and heat he would expect in one created by a meteorite or anything else falling from the skies. Besides, the pod in the middle of it – the size of small space transport– seems to be rising from it rather than sinking.

"Five minutes fifty-eight!" Ianto's voice puts an end to any head-on fight he and Jack might have chosen to have. Bringing himself back in check, he grins when Jack stretches a hand in front of him.

"Batteries." Jack's not even looking at him. He's been avoiding him, ever since Ianto took him out of the cell. His plan seems to be working. Jack always gets cranky when someone gets too close to him for comfort. Disdainfully, he flips open his wriststrap and presses a few buttons, confirming what he already knew: the ship didn't fall from above: it is folding space-time and appearing here and now.

"Manners." Some days he just seems to wake up with a death wish. Right now, he knows Jack won't lash out against him. Jack is a leader, he has always been. The job will get done, whatever the cost. And he'll protect those he loves, whatever it takes. He knows Jack may hate having to rely on him, but Captain Harkness will put up with him and keep him alive if that gives his team, his friends – the man he loves and the woman he adores – a chance to survive.

"Batteries. Now!" He closes his Vortex Manipulator again and fishes for them in one of the inner pockets of his jacket as he turns around and stares at Ianto.

"You really need to teach him some manners, Eye Candy." Ianto rolls his eyes as he puts the small object on Jack's hand. "If you need a hand to handle him..." He lets the idea hang in the air. Ianto raises an eyebrow, considering, then stares straight back at him. With a smile, he turns back to the emerging ship. "So, now that you have the batteries, how do we go about swapping them?"

* * *

An eerie whirring sound hits his ears as they get off the SUV. The ship is not fully on this dimension yet, but the machinery inside it is already working, getting ready for a full scale invasion. He forces himself to relax when he realizes he's been pressing his lips into a fine line. Worrying about what will happen if the Garg'kats manage to get a foothold will not help.

"So, Eye Candy, how did your rudimentary alert system catch this?" To his left, always a step behind Jack, at first Ianto doesn't deign give him an answer.

"Torchwood London." Ianto nervously bites his bottom lip. He rattles his brain, trying to remember all he's ever heard about Torchwood One. "They shelved the project." A shadow of painful memories crosses his face. "Tosh must have gotten the data from them; the software just recognized the energy signature."

"That woman was a genius." The words leave his lips before he really notices. Because it is true. Quiet, polite, reserved Toshiko was a real fighter inside, even if her weapons of choice were brains and technology rather than the more violent items he would choose. Ianto looks at him, surprised, and nods in acknowledgement again. Of course; with the bracelets, Eye Candy can tell he really means it.

"More than that." Barely a whisper, it tells him Ianto and Tosh had been close. Friendship? Random nights when working late leading to more? No, the cute thing had her eyes on the snarky doctor, that had been obvious from the start. He feels the need to apologize again for the mess he brought with him, but now is not the time.

"I'm going in!" Jack's voice brings him back to the problem at hand. When he turns around, His Immortalness is taking some of the heavy guns out of the back of the SUV and passing them to Gwen and Ianto. When he waves one in his direction, he takes it and checks it thoroughly. "You, cover me. How long will this give us?" Jack's blue eyes latch onto him, demanding answers, reminding him of too much. The bastard always knew the effect that look had on him, and used it to his advantage.

"A field of this size..." He pauses for a second, eyebrows raised, tongue sticking out between his teeth, striking his 'thoughtful and calculating' pose. Ianto rolls his eyes. "About six hours. Maybe seven, if we're lucky." He shrugs, causing his jacket to move over his body, the familiar weight of all the weapons hidden in it strangely calming. "Not much, but better than having those things loose on your precious planet. Are you sure none of the other pods are a threat?" Jack shakes his head.

"Not in this dimension yet."

"What aren't you telling us about these aliens, you two?" Gwen's voice trails off as Jack's slowly walks towards the crater, using his wriststrap to cross the forcefield. He can't help the knot on his stomach tightening with every step. Knowing Jack can't stay dead is no comfort as he trains his weapon on the ship, eyes scouting around, watching out for the blur of motion that would indicate one of the creatures is approaching.

Before he knows it, a small panel slides on the side of the ship, and something emerges from it, heading straight for Jack. He takes a deep breath, aims and shoots. At least somebody had the good sense of ensuring it is possible to shoot through these energy barriers from the outside. He doesn't particularly fancy being in there right now. The figure slows down, but doesn't stop. To his left, Ianto curses and fires.

"Where did it fall?" He doesn't need one of those primitive ear pieces to hear Jack's question. Rolling his eyes, he presses a few buttons on his wriststrap, searching for the dying signature of the inflatable cell and opening a channel direct to Jack.

"Twenty three metres to your right, three metres ahead!" Ducking as the creature gets nearer, Jack follows his instructions without questioning; he's glad to see the survival instincts Jack developed as a Time Agent still kick in when they are needed. He bites back the snarky remark building up in his throat. Gwen and Ianto keep shooting, trying to send the alien away from Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches another flurry of movement. "Damn it Jack, get out of there, there are two of them out of the ship!"

Leaving his cover, he heads into the containment area searching for a better point to fire from. To his right, Gwen concentrates fire on the alien approaching Jack while he aims at the second one; behind him, Ianto is moving to cover both Gwen and himself. And, of course, his weapon chooses this precise moment to jam. Throwing it to the ground, he draws his twin pistols and keeps shooting at the approaching figure.

"Jack! Now would be a good time!" Around him, the air buzzes and ripples as the cell's batteries are replaced. He kicks the fallen gun behind him; no use leaving a good weapon in the hands of the enemies, even if the enemies don't have hands to use them. Jack's old relic fires a couple of rounds just as the second creature starts getting too close for comfort. A volley of shots rings behind him, and he thanks the Goddesses for Eye Candy's good aim. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jack retreating.

He misses a couple of shots; Garg'kats are always fast, but this one seems to be high on something, judging by the speed he is moving. Behind him, Ianto shouts a warning. By the time he sees the third creature, it is already on him, gnawing at his right shoulder. It takes a moment for his brain to notice that the scream he can hear is his own. Pain. Heat radiating from his shoulder. Screams, the squeal of the creature, shots being fired. Being dragged over rough terrain. A worried face through half closed eyes, concern etched into its features. He forces his mind to search for a name. Jack. Then another set of blue eyes. Eye Candy. More shots. That must be Gwen.

"Hold in there, Captain." Ianto's voice cuts through the cotton filling his head. Hands slide under him, lift him, drag him, drop him somewhere soft. Someone murmurs something about mending his jacket; that must be Eye Candy, always so attentive. His head rests on something warm and alive; he forces his eyes open and sees a face floating above him. Something presses on his wound. His mouth is too dry to even hiss at the pain.

"Careful!" Ianto's voice again. "You are hurting him. I'll do it." The figures nearby shift and a softer pressure is applied on his shoulder. Feebly, he brings his hand over Ianto's. "You'll be OK, John." And for a moment, he believes him. Then, darkness takes over.

* * *

He wakes up what feels like an eternity later, head pounding. His body is on fire, and it isn't the good kind. Slowly, he opens his eyes, only to close them again, stabbed by the light. His arms and legs feel like lead, too heavy to move. A hand runs softly through his hair. He forces his mind to remember, and shudders when the memories come flooding in. Bitten by a Garg'kat. Not many worse things in the universe. Slowly, he shuffles around as much as his tired limbs will allow. A very familiar scent – coffee and a subtle hint of aftershave – fills his nostrils. Ianto must be nearby.

"He's awake." He opens his eyes again, just a bit; he's still lying on the back of the SUV, head resting on Ianto's thigh, the kid's hand still pressing on his wound, concerned etched on that pretty face staring down at him. "You scared us there for a moment." He tries to speak, but his mouth is dry.

"How long... have I been out?" Eventually his brain finds the words, as he fights the sleepy feeling wrapping around him, the urge to relax under Ianto's light touch. Very Bad Guys at the doors and End of the World approaching. He'll fall dead later on, when the work is done. By the Goddesses, when did he become such a save-the-universe hero type? Why is he even in this backwater planet in the first place? He should be somewhere else, where he could make some stupid gambler part with his money, drink until he fell under the table and fuck the most beautiful things around. Ah, but that life of simple pleasure lost its appeal quite some time ago.

"Just ten minutes. Your pulse was very weak." Ianto gives him his best poker look, and his lips, cracked and dry as they are, curl in the beginning of a smile. "Looked like you were dead for a minute." There is more than a hint of concern in his voice.

"I think I was." Ianto looks baffled. He chooses not to tell him more than he already knows about the Garg'kats; there's no need to scare him with stories. Carefully, he brings his hand to the wound on his shoulder, feeling Eye Candy's fingers under his, long and strong. "Jack and PC Cooper?"

"Outside, making sure the cell is stable, and none of the creatures made it out during the battery swap." Ianto swallows hard, and he can see the battle raging under that calm exterior, even if he's not entirely sure what's causing it. He sits up, slowly, head spinning, grateful for the hand Eye Candy places on his back to help him up.

"I'll need to bandage this while we sort this mess. Got any medical kit?" It feels strangely intimate to be on the back of the SUV with Ianto; even with more poison in his system than is healthy to have, he can think of better uses for the back seat than to serve as makeshift emergency medpoint. Always efficient, Ianto produces a small – and by his standards, antiquated – medical bag from the front seat; it was probably Owen's – it still has a couple of badges pinned on it.

"Sterile gauze," Ianto enumerates as he takes items out of the bag and places them on the seat between them, "sticky tape, bandages, sterile water, disinfectant. Anything else?" Carefully, John sneaks his left arm out of the jacket, and winces as he tries to take it off completely.

"Atropine. Or any other thing you may have to slow poisons." Eye Candy nearly drops the bag; he curses Jack once again for not telling his team half of what they need to know. "Don't worry, I'm not dead yet. Surprisingly, it is the poison that is keeping me alive. I just need to slow its effects until I have time to deal with it." Taking a deep breath and shaking his head, the kid rummages through the bag again, hands trembling slightly. "And gloves. You don't want this getting on your skin." Once he finds what he's looking for, Ianto tosses the bag on the front seat.

Nimble hands wet the bandage pressed onto his wound and peel it off carefully. The same process is applied to his jacket, soaked in blood and torn to shreds in the shoulder where the creature bit him. He doesn't particularly fancy a trip to Napoleonic France to get a replacement.

"Don't moan about it." Ianto's low voice, the softness in it, makes an interesting change from the razor-sharp edge the kid's been using on him. "The braiding is still intact, surprisingly; it will be easy to get it fixed." Eye Candy raises an eyebrow. "Your t-shirt, on the other hand, is a lost cause. I'm afraid I'll have to cut it, unless you can move your arm." Pain floods his system when he tries; with a sigh, he reaches for a knife on his left boot, and hands it to Ianto, handle first. The kid holds his gaze for a second, then reaches for it, and slowly slides the blade under the material, cutting the sleeve open as he moves up his arm and shoulder. He shivers.

Without a word, Eye Candy cleans the knife and slides it back into his boot, carefully feeling for the hidden leather straps that keeps it in place. Picking up the water, John starts wetting the material still stuck to his skin. Slowly, Ianto peels it away, revealing a very nasty and deep bite, and starts cleaning it. He tries – and fails – not to flinch as the disinfectant hits the wound, as gloved hands press clean gauzes on it and bandage it, the right balance between keeping pressure on the wound and not hurting the damaged tissue. Observing his own handiwork, Ianto allows himself a small smirk, and hands him the atropine injector.

"So, this poison." He injects himself, hoping it will be enough to slow the spread. "What exactly does it do?" The cloud of concern on Ianto's face makes him warm inside, wanting to run a hand along that well-defined jawline and kiss the kid senseless.

"The Garg'kats need bodies. Need them alive. They bite, they poison, they generally drag their prey back to their ship, where they use it as an incubator for their young." Ianto doesn't even flinch, despite the horror showing in his face. "The poison is designed to keep the body alive for as long as possible, until the process they put it through destroys it completely."

"Doesn't sound much like a poison." Barely a whisper as the kid passes him a long bandage tied in a makeshift sling before putting the first aid materials away and folding his torn jacket. He takes a deep breath, fighting the pain in every inch of his body, as he wonders how much more to tell Ianto.

"It hurts like Hell. Blood on fire kind of Hell. No painkiller in this time will help, so don't even bother offering." Eye Candy looks at him in surprise. "They'll only cloud my mind."

"Then why don't I feel it?" He shakes the bracelet on his wrist, a pensive look on his face. "If they propagate emotions and ideas on a basic level, why not the pain?" He smiles, and shakes his head, not knowing what to make of Ianto in this precise moment. "I can tell you are wounded, I can tell your shoulder hurts, but nothing else."

"Because he's shielding you." Jack's voice booms as he opens the boot and starts rummaging. "John's always been good at grinding his teeth and pretending he's all right, even when he most definitely isn't."

"Thank you, Jack, it's good to see you still appreciate my talents." The bitterness in his voice surprises him. He blames it on the poison, but not even he can believe that.

"Now, Ianto, if you are done with John's wounds, we still have Very Nasty Aliens to catch." Without another word, Jack slams the rear door shut and walks away again. With a sigh, John slides his arm on the sling and opens the door. Ianto places a hand on his good shoulder, stopping him.

"That's why you are helping us, isn't it?" He doesn't answer. "You knew what these things would do to Jack, the torture it would mean if they got him" He swallows the knot in his throat. "That's why you risked it like that earlier" He waits, a heartbeat, two, three, not sure how – or whether – to answer the implicit questions in Ianto's voice.

"Love makes fools out of us all," he mutters as he gets out of the SUV. He hopes Ianto doesn't hear. He knows he has.

_**Countermeasure**_

It shouldn't have happened. John should never have been inside that forcefield. But he was. Because John could never follow orders, not matter who they came from, but particularly never from _him_. And now he's been bitten. With an angry growl, Jack kicks the ground, lifting a small cloud of dust. He could try and tell himself John shouldn't have been anywhere near here in the first place, but it wouldn't help. As much as he would have preferred to keep him in the vaults, Ianto was right: they need all the help they can get to deal with this. So John's part of the team, at least for now. And he's supposed to keep his team safe. Even sarcastic, psychopathic ex-lovers.

Webley drawn, he makes his way around the energy cell, looking for any creature that may have escaped during the battery swap. He really hates these things, and that is not something he says often. But Garg'kats are really nasty things to have at one's doorstep... Particularly when he _knows_ they shouldn't be anywhere near this solar system. Not yet, anyway. Did this never make the history books because, somehow, Torchwood averted disaster? Or are the timelines being changed? He shakes his head. First, deal with the immediate danger. Then, answer the thorny questions.

It takes a more thorough sweep than usual before he is convinced they are all still inside the forcefield and starts making his way back to the SUV, still trying to figure out exactly _how_ they can get rid of this "immediate danger". Sometimes he misses 51st century weaponry.

John seems to be awake again. Not that it means much with a Garg'kat bite; the poison is supposed to keep him alive. He shouldn't have left Ianto with him – he's smart, he'll put it all together even if John doesn't give him any more pieces of the puzzle. And Ianto won't like the final picture when he gets it, and he will get that silent glare he's come to identify as the 'you should have told me, the more I know the better I can help' look. The one that never fails to make him feel a bit guilty. Because Ianto is right, most of the times. Still, there are things he'd rather not have to tell him.

Still a few steps away, he watches as Ianto tends to John's wound, expert hands moving carefully around the damage, cleaning, treating, bandaging. It still surprises him how good Ianto is at patching people up. He must have paid attention while Owen dealt with his own injuries, rather than be dragged into the usual sarcasm matches the medic would start with the rest of them. The ones Owen used to hide his concern behind. He takes a couple of steps forward, trying not to get caught in yet another review of the very long list of people he's lost over the years - it won't help right now. There is a time for mourning, and the middle of a crisis that could change the course of History most definitely isn't it.

He cringes when John tells Ianto about the poison and refuses painkillers that won't have any effect. Soldiering on as if nothing were wrong. Not quite John's usual style. Not that John has something that could be defined as "usual style", other than whatever gets him the most money, sex, alcohol and drugs. Sneaky, adaptable, and good at reading people. The perfect conman. Only this time John actually seems... honest. He snorts. Honest is a word that never applied to John Hart.

"Then why don't I feel it?" Once again, Ianto asks just the right question. One that he's certain John doesn't want to answer, because it probably comes too close to calling his bluff or revealing he actually, for once in his life, means what he's saying. He's not sure he can deal with _that_ right now. "If they propagate emotions and ideas on a basic level, why not the pain? I can tell you are wounded, I can tell your shoulder hurts, but nothing else."

"Because he's shielding you." He opens the boot of the SUV, pretending to look for some weapon or another, knowing John won't even thank him for interrupting. He gives Ianto his best don't-you-worry smile. "John's always been good at grinding his teeth and pretending he's all right, even when he most definitely isn't."

"Thank you, Jack, it's good to see you still appreciate my talents." Yep, there it is, John's trademark 'I had it all under control until you showed up' sarcasm... The one he's never quite believed. He pulls a face at John, who just rolls his eyes at him.

"Now, Ianto, if you are done with John's wounds, we still have Very Nasty Aliens to catch." He slams the rear door shut, not sure he wants to confront the look on Ianto's face right now, as he pieces it all together and realizes that John may be letting through more than he's saying.

"That's why you are helping us, isn't it?" Ianto's voice sounds full of surprise. He's got to give it to John, not many people manage that. He walks away, not wanting to hear John's reply. Some things, he's better off not knowing.


	9. Eighth Move

_**Eighth move**_

Ianto is already there as he stands up, light-headed and not as stable as usual. The gentle touch on the small of his back is not exactly helping steady his head. Taking a deep breath, he brings his left hand to his belt, only to find the gun missing. He raises his eyebrows and gives Ianto a meaningful look.

"You should rest." He leans back on the SUV as Ianto walks away, opens the front door and returns with his weapons, a tired look on his face.

"Yeah." Sure hands check the magazines, tossing them into the back seat when they find them empty. He can't help but follow every move, every slender finger sliding over metal. "But, as you may have noticed, I don't quite have time for that right now." Eye Candy rolls his eyes, as if he had had this conversation a million times before. And he probably has – Jack was never one to sit down and nurse a wound. "Left boot, at the back. Jacket, right sleeve."

With a nod, Ianto retrieves the jacket and takes out a spare magazine. John can't tear his eyes from him as he reloads one of the guns and slides it into holster resting on his right thigh, fingers barely brush against denim. He shivers; poison and want can be an interesting combination. When Ianto crouches down and sneaks both hands around his leg, feeling for the clip hidden inside his boot, forehead barely resting on his hipbone, the soft touch nearly overcomes the pain.

Deft fingers undo the top buckle on his shin as Ianto sinks lower, nose tracing a line down his thigh... He struggles for air, and it is not because of the venom in his system. He bites his lip to stop a moan when Ianto does up his boot again and stands up, eyes firmly on his as he secures the second gun in the holster. By the Goddesses, the kid could make an execution sexy without even trying. He'd probably even get the victim to stand still and smile while he pulled the trigger.

Ianto watches intently as he pushes himself away from the vehicle and takes a few tentative steps, trying to focus his mind. Eye Candy takes a deep breath and swallows hard. He struggles to keep his thoughts in check, away from both pleasure and pain. He needs Ianto to concentrate on the task at hand, or this could get nasty very quickly. The poison seems to be reaching the stage where he can't feel pain, other than the burning heat in his system. Grinding his teeth, he makes his way to where Jack and PC Cooper are standing, hands on their weapons, eyes surveying the interior of the cell.

"Are you sure you up for this?" Jack doesn't even look at him, but there's a hint of concern on his voice. A hand rests on his shoulder, supportive, reassuring, and he can't help but lean into Ianto's touch. Jack raises an eyebrow. Jealous? Curious? He can't quite tell. Then comes the smirk. Definitely not jealous then. Or at least not jealous enough to worry about it. "Can't have you fainting halfway through the plan."

"Oh, so we have a plan? Care to share?" There's a moment of tense silence, broken only by the whirring of machinery inside the ship. It jars on his nerves in a way very few things can.

"We need to stop it coming through." Gwen, always so good at stating the obvious. He nearly rolls his eyes, but it is too much effort now. He struggles to stand up. Ianto tightens his grip on his good shoulder; warmth radiates from that single point of contact. So tempting.

"Yes, thank you, dear, but, how exactly do you suggest we do that?" He moves closer to the barrier. His eyes seem intent on staying closed, and his brain is rapidly filling with cotton wool. Shaking his head, he reaches into his jacket, brings out a small flask he keeps for emergencies – although he's not sure it'll have any effect on the Garg'kat poison – and downs it in one.

"Ianto, should he really be here?" Gwen's question is merely a whisper. He can't make out Ianto's reply, but Gwen seems to settle for it.

"So." He spins around, fighting to keep his balance. "Plan?" Jack gives him a poker face. "Ah. You don't have one." Jack pulls a face. "Nothing new there, then."

"Yet." That smile shoots straight through him, despite the pain, and the burn, and the sleepy feeling that threatens to settle over him. "Still thinking. Suggestions?" He swallows hard. Of course he has suggestions. He just doesn't like them.

"PC Cooper is right, we need to stop this ship coming through, if it is the one leading the fleet." John swallows hard. Why on the Seven Universes is he doing this? "Easiest way, use a Vortex Manipulator to reverse whatever it is that is sending it here in the first place."

"Jack's doesn't work." Of course Ianto knows. Jack never explained, but John did notice all teleportation and time travel functions being blocked when he... borrowed it from Jack, during his first visit. "So it'll have to be John's."

"No." Jack's eyes are still on him. "No way. If anybody is going in, it'll be me. I don't want any of you in that containment cell. Particularly not _him_." His heart leaps. His mind reminds him this is Captain Harkness speaking; he'll protect his whole team, even if he'd rather tear them to pieces the moment work is done. "He's done enough already."

"Well, Jack, then you could take John's Vortex Manipulator, and..." Gwen's looking from Jack to him to Ianto and then to Jack, trying to figure out what is really going on. He gives her a sympathetic smile.

"He can't." All eyes turn to him. "My wriststrap is bonded to me." He watches the emotions play on Ianto's face as realization hits him. "It won't work on anybody else's hands." He doesn't feel like explaining why.

"What's he on about, Jack?" Gwen's voice breaks the silence after a few beats. With a sigh, Jack turns away from her – somebody really needs to show PC Cooper alternatives to direct confrontation – and looks straight at him.

"I used to steal it from him," Jack offers, and he has to wonder if he is going mad or that is really a hint of remorse on Jack's voice. "Kinda handy, having two, for some missions." Yes, remorse... and a hint of that banter they used to share so long ago.

"Kinda sucks, waking up to find yours gone and you are stranded in some backwater time at the end of the galaxy." He's glaring yet grinning at Jack. He could nearly forget this is no longer the Time Agency, if Jack keeps reminding him of oh so many things they used to share. Hell, he could even forget the poison in his system if Jack...

"Kinda should have been more careful with it, don't you think?" He opens his mouth to retort, but he can't think of anything appropriate. Mentions of how hard it is to keep a working brain after a night of sex with Jack Harkness seem out of place. He'll have to settle the score later. "And you are in no shape to walk in there."

"What other option have we got?" Focus. He needs to focus. "I can't revert a signal that strong from out here. Your wriststrap doesn't work, and undoing the bonding on mine would take way longer than we have." His body tenses, and he feels his knees give in under him. Ianto is at his side before he touches the ground, helping him stay on his feet. "So, unless you have a signal amplifier..." Jack shakes his head.

Ianto looks from him to Jack and back again. Gwen looks from him to Jack in shock, as if she couldn't believe what her ears are telling her. He can see questions racing through her mind, none of them really forming, as she tries to figure out what kind of plan that is. Ianto, storm brewing under the calm exterior, shoots him a meaningful look.

A heartbeat. Two. Three.

"Jack." A single word, in Ianto's well measured, polite voice. Head tilted just a bit, Eye Candy holds Jack's eyes, and the connection between them is so obvious it hurts. Ianto's hand on the small of his back soothes the pain. Eventually, Jack nods.

"I'll be bait." He rolls his eyes. Eye Candy's hand moves to his shoulder and squeezes lightly. He lets out the breath he's been holding, swearing. "Ianto and Gwen will give us cover. From _outside_ the cell. Don't even think of following me in." Slowly, he steps away from Ianto. "If we are lucky, the ship will already be on its way back before the Garg'kats know what's happening."

"You know what they'll do to you, if they catch you." Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ianto's grimace at the thought, and Gwen's baffled look.

"I'll be fine." He moves closer to Jack and stands on tiptoe, refusing to give him the advantages of being a couple of inches taller.

"I risked my neck in there for you earlier. I have fucking _poison_ running through my veins because I was covering your ass. You'd better be fine, or, by the Goddesses, I'll bring you out of there just so I can kill you with my own hands." Jack just holds his gaze, all Captain Harkness and save-the-universe superhero style. "Assuming I make it out of there myself."

"It's not like you have to walk in, anyway." He gives Gwen a surprised look. "Weren't you just bragging about teleportation?" Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that? Fucking poison.

* * *

Seven minutes, fifty-eight seconds – or thereabouts – later, everything is set. Ianto double checks the analysis of the temporal displacement created by the ship in his portable gizmo. He has already snatched the data onto his wriststrap, and created an inverter. He curses under his breath once more; in the Time Agency, he could just get an amplifier to hook to his Vortex Manipulator, and be done with these Garg'kats without having to get his hands dirty. But of course, a single wriststrap cannot handle that. So he has to go in, and hold the signal in place long enough for it to revert the original wave. Or, if he's lucky, find a terminal and get the ship itself to generate the inverter.

"Do you trust him?" Jack is standing a few metres away, in full view of the scanners set on the hull of the ship, coat floating behind him. Gwen has found a vantage point to cover him from. Ianto has just slipped out of the back seat of the SUV, where his much loved jacket still lies in shreds, and is checking his own weapon.

"Jack?" Ianto nods. What can he tell him? "We were partners." As if that explained it all. "With my life." Ianto looks away for a second, filing away the information. As he walks past him, a hand rests on his shoulder for a moment, and Eye Candy murmurs something that could well be ' good luck' .

* * *

He materializes in the opposite side of the ship to where the Torchwood team are standing, and finds it eerily silent. The machinery is no doubt still working, but the heart of the ship – the incubation area – is silent. Trying to keep his steps quiet, he approaches the first terminal he finds, always grateful for his wriststrap's ability to interface with any processing system. Same readings as Ianto got outside. A few more touches and... all set. His skin tingles with the shift in the two temporal distortions fighting each other.

He walks around, examining the chambers where whole litters of Garg'kats will be hooked to their human incubators. He can't help but throw small explosive charges on them; they are not big enough to really damage the ship, but they may postpone any other incursion in search for bodies to use.

The time distortion around him shifts. Slowly, the inverter is pushing the ship away from this reality, back to where and when it came from. Time to leave. Being trapped in a ship full of these creatures when it returns to its own place is something he can live without. Plus it would most likely activate the fucking bracelet.

"So... back to Kansas, Dorothy." The energy of the Vortex starts to wrap around him, before suddenly dissipating. He tries again, concentrating in hitting the correct sequence of buttons. This time nothing happens. He curses. "Of course. Two temporal displacements." He curses in languages this century probably hasn't heard of yet, and presses yet another button. "Jack, I'm going to need more time. Gotta get out the old-fashioned way."

* * *

Three left turns and a right turn later, he curses again. He's not lost. Just... disoriented. He takes another turn, and one of the airlocks comes into view. He reaches for his wriststrap, and could have sighed with relief when a panel slides open, revealing Cardiff's murky sky, clouds and the threat of rain.

He's nearly made it when pain shoots through his side, and it all goes black.

_**Countermeasure**_

Jack nearly swears under his breath when John cuts the communication. John never should have been in there. He is wounded, and time distortion fields are always tricky. Tapping a few buttons on his wriststrap, he takes a couple of steps towards the forcefield, and starts walking the perimeter.

"Jack?" Ianto's voice, a hint of concern in it, comes through his earpiece. He can hear all the questions Ianto won't ask in that single word.

"John can't teleport out." A pause. He keeps moving towards the side of the ship, where the nursery would be. Where John must have gone to. Still no sign of him.

"You are going in." Not a question, just the reassuring understanding he always seems to get from Ianto in the middle of a crisis. He lets out a sigh, nodding. Some day he'll get around to thanking Ianto for it. Hopefully, before it is too late.

"Have to pay my debts." Somehow it doesn't come out as carefree as he wanted it to. In the distance, he can see Ianto and Gwen taking up the position he was holding just a minute ago, in plain view of the Garg'kat ship, in an attempt to distract the creatures' attention. He swallows, wondering how long until he fails to keep them safe. Until he loses them, like so many before. Shaking his head, he forces himself to concentrate on here and now. Aliens. End of the world. Tingling timelines. Just the usual on a Wednesday in Torchwood.

"We'll cover you." His earpiece beeps the end of the call as an airlock on the side of the ship slides open. He trains the gun on it, hoping it is John coming out and not one of the Garg'kats. The knot on his throat tightens when nothing – nobody – steps out of the craft after a minute. He walks into the inflatable cell, hands gripped tightly around the weapon he is carrying, so different from the Webley. But big problems require big guns. At least sometimes.

John's lying on the floor, a vine-like tendril wrapping itself around him and dragging him towards the wall, where more tendrils are reaching out. Fighting the nausea, he shoots at the mass and the vines – one of them covered in blood – retreat and wrap themselves around the most delicate parts of the structure. He shoots again, slowly making his way towards John, trying not to look at the dark red pool forming beside him. A few more shots, and the thing on the wall appears to be dead. Carefully, he lifts John from the floor and runs out of the ship. It won't be long before somebody notices the damage.

* * *

"Are you sure it is working?" It's the third time Gwen has asked the same thing since he made it out of the containment field. John's lying on the back of the SUV again, and for once, Ianto seems too preoccupied with stopping the bleeding to moan about how hard it is to get blood out of the upholstery. Standing by the open door, he's idly tracing lines up and down John's neck, not very sure why he's so reluctant to let go.

"Yes!" It comes out sharper than he intended it to. "I checked it twice, Gwen." He breaths deeply, feeling the pulse under his fingertips, eyes following Ianto's deft hands as he covers the blood-soaked dressing with a clean one. "See for yourself, take the PDA." She opens the front door and takes the discarded scanner, tapping furiously at it before slamming the door shut.

"Careful." Ianto doesn't raise his voice, but he doesn't need to. He can't help but give him a small smile. Ianto pulls a face and carries on sticking the dressing on John's abdomen. At least the bleeding seems to have slowed down.

"How is he?" Gwen gives Ianto an apologetic look. "Anything I can help with?" Ianto shakes his head as he packs the first aid kit back into Owen's bag.

"He needs a doctor." Carefully closes the door on his side, Ianto stands up and stares at him over the roof of the SUV in a way that allows no argument. "_We_ need a doctor." He opens his mouth to protest, but closes it again. Ianto is right. "Before somebody dies."

"St Helen's. Doctor Connolly. She won't ask too many questions." Ianto nods. "Get him back to the Hub as soon as you can." He gives Gwen what should be a cheerful look but isn't. "Gwen and I will stay and make sure Cardiff Finest keep an eye on this until it disappears back to where it came." Running his hand through John's hair, he closes the door and walks to Ianto. Gwen's already on the phone, probably trying to convince PC Andy Davidson to do things her way. He drags Ianto into a hug, the wool of his suit jacket scratching his cheek as he settles his head on his shoulder. "He'll be okay. He's a survivor." He can feel Ianto swallow and nod, hands fisting on his coat.

"He'd better be." Ianto pulls away a little, only to come back for a kiss. He raises an eyebrow – it's not something Ianto does often. Not when Gwen – or anybody else, for that matter – is around, anyway. Particularly not since Gwen walked in on them a few months ago. Ianto rests his forehead on his, noses barely touching, and looks straight at him. "Don't walk back in there." Half plea, half wish, half command. He nods.

"Not unless I have to." Ianto rolls his eyes and smirks.

"All this saving the world will end up killing you. Again." Fishing in one of the pockets of his coat, he brings out the keys and hands them over.

"Take care of him." Ianto's smile widens as he grabs the keys and slips into the driver's seat. It isn't until the SUV is driven away that he notices Ianto didn't give him a sideways look, or a snarky remark. Maybe he's not the only one who cares more than he should about John.

* * *

It's well after nightfall by the time he makes it back to the Hub. Andy offered to drive them back, dropping first Gwen at her flat, then him by the water tower. He jumps down from the invisible lift stone before it touches the ground, throwing his coat over a chair as he walks to one of the stations. Pulling a face, he doubles back, grabs it from where it fell, and carefully places it on the coat hanger.

"Ianto!" The call echoes idly on the empty space. He's about to tap his earpiece when he hears steps clattering on the corridor. A moment later Ianto walks into view, shirtsleeves rolled up, waistcoat unbuttoned and still splattered with blood, looking exhausted. "How did it go?" Ianto takes a deep breath and heads for the coffee machine. "How...?" He watches intently as Ianto unlocks the filter, throws away the old coffee and packs it with freshly ground beans before locking it back in place. He bites his lip, knowing only too well he'll get the answers when Ianto is ready to give them. Which is generally not a good sign. When Ianto finally turns around and perches on the table, there's a small smile on his face.

"John'll live." He lets out a breath he hadn't notice he'd been holding. "Angela patched him up," Ianto turns around again and carries on making coffee, "kept saying how lucky he was to be in one piece after an _accident_ like that, didn't ask how it happened, and complained when I insisted on taking him home."

"Angela?" He raises an eyebrow and grabs the mug Ianto hands him with a grateful sigh. The weight on his shoulders seems to lift – he's not sure he could deal with yet another death in his team right now. When John became part of the team is a question he'd rather not answer right now. He takes a sip of coffee – nothing like a hot drink to ease away a hard day. Rummaging through the cupboard, he brings out a packet of cookies. Not much, but it's too late for even their usual takeaways, so it'll have to do.

"Doctor Connolly." Ianto lets out a sigh of relief when he takes a sip of coffee. He smiles; Ianto always seems to cling to these small moments of normality – a hot drink, a shower at the end of the day, shopping for stationary, doing admin work – as if they gave him the strength to go through the mad life in Torchwood. Not that he can blame him – he's got his own moments of calm he holds on to, most of which seem to involve Ianto in one way or another.

"First name terms? My, my." He's nearly laughing when Ianto pulls a face and sticks his tongue out at him, both almost giddy with that kind of relief that seems to wash over them after life-and-death missions. He puts his mug down and kisses him, enjoying the feeling of simply being alive and driving each other crazy in more ways than one. Taking the mug from Ianto's hand, he places it by his. Yes, it is good to be alive some days.

"You need a shower. And some sleep." Ianto snorts at his words and playfully slaps the hands that are already undoing his shirt. "It's been a long day." Ianto tries to take a step back, only to find himself pinned against the counter. "And tomorrow won't be any shorter." If anything, days in Torchwood seem to get longer. "So, where is he? Vaults?" Ianto shakes his head and blushes a little, hiding his hands in his pockets.

"He... he's in my room." Oh, that adorable shyness. He raises an eyebrow, for a second not sure whether to laugh, or be jealous, or simply take it as Ianto being Ianto and taking care of everybody, as he always does. Although something in the way Ianto is looking at him tells him it would be a very bad idea to laugh right now. "Angela said he needed rest." He tries his best 'oh, really?' look, but Ianto just holds his gaze. "The Vaults didn't seem... appropriate."

Taking his mug again, Ianto makes his way to the tattered sofa, stretching his arms over his head as he sits down. He leans on the rails, trying to figure out what exactly is going on with these two. Just last night, Ianto seemed more than happy to never see the rogue again. Today, he's enlisted his help – okay, yes, they wouldn't have sorted this mess without him, but still – and now is doting over him. Should he be worried they'll gang up on him and disappear? Cos that, stealing the people he relies on – the lover that makes life worth living – from under his nose, would be just like John. Or at least, like the John he used to know. Who wouldn't have walked into a Garg'kat ship for less than half a dozen Arcadian diamonds. So maybe John has really changed. Maybe he's breaking the habit of a lifetime and really wants to...

"I've changed my mind." He blinks a couple of times, puzzled. His heart misses a beat of two; he tries to calm down – he's probably reading this wrong. This is one of those creepy moments when he's not sure whether Ianto is reading his mind, or talking about the next order of stationary or where to order pizza next time. Or both.

"About what?" He swallows. Ianto shuffles, looks away, looks back at him. Gives him a nervous smile. Takes a sip of coffee. His heart is pounding. Maybe is not stationary then.

"About John." Oh, that adorable blush on Ianto's face. "If... you really meant it."

He's pretty sure his jaw has hit the floor, in one of those silly cartoon ways. So, this is it. He waits for the unwelcome spark of jealousy, of fear that John could drive Ianto away from him. Ianto holds his gaze, determined. His mind goes into overdrive, imagining oh so many possibilities. He can't wait to see the look of surprise in John's face when Ianto pulls a couple of his favourite tricks on him. That settles it, then. Grinning, he jumps up the stairs and sits by Ianto, diving in for a kiss, hot and sloppy and familiar and new at the same time. Will Ianto ever cease to surprise him? Probably not. Hopefully not.

"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't." He smiles, and Ianto blushes even more. "Besides, you should know by now I consider sex a very serious matter." Ianto nods, and his lips curl in the beginning of a smile. "I never joke about it." Laughter. That strange laughter he so rarely hears. For a moment, he forgets everything that has been weighing him down during the day. The aliens, the wounded, the dead. For a moment, the world is not resting on his shoulders. And it feels good.

"Anything I should... know?" It takes a moment until his brain – still too busy imagining – figures out what Ianto means. Well. Where to start. So much to know about John, yet so little he can tell without spoiling the surprise, the thrill of the new lover. And that is always the best part. Well. Maybe just a bit...

"He can be... amazing and overwhelming sometimes." He nuzzles Ianto's neck, holding him close. "He'll challenge every limit once, if you let him. He is... interesting to discover." He can tell Ianto has that faraway look on his face now. The one he's never been able to decipher. He could just ask, but where's the fun in that?

"You miss him." So straightforward, so matter-of-factly, he can't help but laugh. A bit of a bitter laugh. Of course he does. Who wouldn't? Ianto will, as well, if he gets close to John and John, as usual, leaves. He pushes the thought away, giving John the benefit of the doubt.

"Yep." A heartbeat. Two. Three. He can feel Ianto's pulse under his lips. "I always miss those I leave behind." Too much of a confession. There's no need to burden Ianto with the knowledge that, long after he's gone, he'll still remember him, like he still remembers all the ones before him. That maybe someday, when somebody else is in his arms, he'll tell them of the quiet, well mannered Welshman with the impossibly blue eyes, the lilting voice and the cutest face when frowning and shooting at Nasty Aliens.

Or maybe he'll keep those memories all for himself, like he still does with some others.

"You could join us. Later, when this mess is sorted. And John's a bit less... stitched up. And we've had time to..."

"Only if you tell me what you are planning."

Which Ianto does. In detail. Before dragging him to the bed under his office, since their luxurious king size bed downstairs is now occupied by a certain rogue. Who cares about sleep?


	10. Ninth Move

_**Ninth Move**_

Pain shoots through his whole body as he slowly drags himself out of his slumber. Disconcerting images flash in his mind, his brain slowly sorting them into some semblance of sense. Bitten by a Garg'kat. Reverted the time distortion. Falling to the ground, just when he thought he would make it. He swallows hard. Being captured by Nasty Aliens wasn't in his plans. He really has to stop this saving-the-world hero thing, before it kills him.

Clean linen. That can't be – the stench in the last Garg'kat ship he boarded, even without a fully functional nursery, was enough to turn even his stomach. There's something soft pillowing his head, and he's not lying on cold metal. He strains his ears. Running water, the hum of air being circulated. A certain dampness in the air. Underground. The Hub? His body still in pain, he struggles to open his eyes.

He can barely make out the room around him in the faint light coming from the door on the other corner. He is probably in the bowels of the Hub, maybe deeper down than the vaults. Who would have known that Jack kept guest rooms with such comfortable beds? Someone has even taken off his boots. Soft covers over him. Silence settles as the water stops running. Was it a shower? A moment later, a shadow appears in the doorway, partially blocking the light.

"You are awake." There's a hint of surprise in Ianto's voice, as he switches on a small lamp standing on the desk. When his eyes finally adapt to the light, his breath hitches at the sight of Ianto, fresh out of the shower, tiny droplets of water still clinging to his skin, hair tousled, white towel wrapped around his waist. "I thought you'd be out cold for a bit longer."

Turning his back to him, Ianto starts rummaging through the small wardrobe. Of course. This must be where Eye Candy keeps his spare suits. If the walls could talk... He tries to sit up, eyes following Ianto's every move. He falls back on the mattress, dizzy and unstable.

"This is turning into a habit, Captain." He wants to ask, he tries to ask, but his mouth is dry as he watches Ianto sneaking his feet into clean socks, balancing against the wooden door of the wardrobe. "Putting you to bed while you are unconscious. Taking off your weapons, your boots." There's just the hint of a smile in those oh so kissable lips. Slowly, one small movement at a time, he manages to sit up and rest his back on the headboard.

"John." Ianto raises an eyebrow. "I am in your bed, you are just as good as naked. I'd thought you would at least call me John by now, Ianto." Eye Candy turns around, his back towards him, and he can't tear his eyes. With great economy of movements, Ianto slips into his underwear, letting the towel fall and pool around his feet without giving him even a glimpse of that now cotton-clad ass. His throat is dry when he tries to swallow.

His eyes close again, lids to heavy to keep them open. When he manages, Ianto is already doing up the button of his pinstripe trousers, zip and belt still undone. Throwing a burgundy shirt on, the kid crosses the room and stands by the bed, slowly and deliberately doing up the buttons of the shirt. The scent of freshly laundered clothes and subtle aftershave hits him.

"What happened?" Ianto's hands hesitate for a moment before moving from one cuff to the other. His lips press into a fine line. "I remember..."

"Jack went in for you." Barely a whisper, as Ianto sits on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs. "We nearly lost both of you." Should he curse Jack for being such an idiot sometimes, of thank him for getting him out? Both, probably. "You were hurt."

"The inverter?"

"It worked." Eye Candy's lips curl in the beginning of a smile. "The ships are being sent back, slowly. Planning on setting up as a competitor in the universe saving business, John?" The way his name rolls out of those lips makes him shiver. He lifts a hand to trace Ianto's jawline; the kid leans onto the touch, eyes halfway closed.

He tries to get closer, needs some contact, just... _something_. His back has barely left the headboard when Ianto leans forwards and kisses him, all bite and delicate touch at the same time. One hand comes up to the back of his head, holding him in place. As if he needed to make sure he is really here, still alive. He traces the line of Ianto's neck and starts unbuttoning his shirt. How long until Ianto comes back to his senses, stands up and walks away? Don't think. Feel.

"Show me." Ianto's forehead rests on his as they break for air. Confused, he tries to gather the scattered brain cells that haven't been fried by the poison or a very hot Ianto close but not quite as much as he'd like him. As soft fingers trace the outline of the bracelet on his wrist, firmly holding his hand in place, thwarting his attempts to undo the shirt, it all clicks into place. He shakes his head. Ianto's eyes stay on his, demanding. It's hard to say no.

"I can't filter what I let through." A quiet nod. "You'll get it all. Pleasure and pain." Ianto dives in for another kiss, biting and nibbling oh so deliciously... his grip tightens; by the time he can form any coherent thought again, his feeble attempt at keeping the pain in his system away from Ianto has collapsed. Images of other times, when he and Jack had discovered the wonders of two-way echoes, flash through his mind. Trying to drown the burning of the poison, the sting on his shoulder, the dizziness, he loses himself in the touch, the heat, the need, the want.

There is something he can't quite place, something hidden under all those layers Ianto wears. Something intriguing, something… metal around his wrist. Before he knows it, Ianto's pushed him back onto the bed, bringing his hand to headboard. He would recognise the clattering of handcuffs anywhere in the universe; the sound always sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

"You're full of surprises, Eye Candy." Ianto hovers over him, hands each side of his head, eyes firmly on his, at hint of concern on his face. "Although I don't think I could handle a rough session right now." He tugs at his restrains, the beginning of a smirk on his lips. Ianto shakes his head.

"You are in no state to be in the field." Realization dawns on him: a distraction. And he's fallen for it. Must be the poison. "It would be too much paperwork if you died." Ianto smiles, that rare and genuine smile he's only ever seen the kid give Jack.

"But..." His mind is still clouded, wrapped in cotton wool, and showing no signs of clearing soon. Maybe Ianto is right – he'd be a liability out there. "I'm not even a member of your bloody Torchwood. How could my death cause paperwork?" Not that he's planning on dying any time soon. Ianto runs a finger along his jawline, slowly, leaving behind a trace of heat that has nothing to do with the bite on his shoulder.

"You've done more than enough." There's no snark in his voice. Standing up, Ianto tucks his shirt in and does up his trousers as he walks back to the wardrobe. Deft fingers do up a tie, then a waistcoat, then a jacket, rebuilding Ianto's neat suit of armour. "We'll clean up. Make sure the ships are gone. Deal with the witnesses." Shag Jack senseless while John's safely tucked away in the basement. Ianto doesn't mention that one, but he can hear it.

"Are the cuffs really necessary?" Ianto adjust the tie, gives him his trademark 'as if I would trust you' look. He raises an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. For a moment, nothing seems to matter. The aliens, the Rift, past, present, futures. It is one of those moments where the world could probably end and he'd go with a smile. "The things you make me say..." Pulling the cuffs of his shirt, Ianto walks to the door, John's jacket draped over an arm. "It's not like I'm going to be running after you lot, am I?"

"Anything you need before I leave, Captain?"

"Yes. Untie me!"

"Anything other than that?" Oh, that smirk on Ianto's face.

"What if you don't come back?" He raises his voice as Ianto walks out the door.

"We will be back."

The door closes behind Ianto, and he's left on his own, cuffed to the bed, and too tired to even attempt to free himself. Half-heartedly, he pulls at his restraints a couple of times, but to no avail. If Jack's ever been near these, they'll be hard to get out of. Even if he could reach the master key hidden on the lining of his... jacket. Which Ianto has just walked out with, presumably to have it mended.

He wants to growl, but in the end he just lets out a tired sigh. He really has to stop this saving-the-world hero thing, before it kills him.

* * *

He's barely closed his eyes for a moment when the door burst open again. He doesn't even bother to open his eyes – Jack's laughter fills the room.

"Stop laughing and untie me, will you?" Jack's never going to let him forget this one. Just as he still reminds him of all the times when he's ended up like this before...

"Just like that time in the Vegas Galaxy." A pause. Three, two, one..."When the casino dealer tied you to the table after you squeezed the house dry, took your winnings and left you there until I found you the next morning."

"Yes, Jack, we all remember that. Now untie me."

He sighs. Laughs. If Jack still remembers all the details, maybe there's still a chance.

**_Countermeasure_**

Jack can't help but laugh. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he asked Ianto to make sure John would be a good boy and stay in bed and rest as the doctor ordered. But he's got to give him points for irony, innovative thought, and annoying the Hell out of John, who's still pulling at the cuffs. John should know better than that; those are, after all, deadlock sealed.

"Come on, Jack. Key. I'm sure you know where it is." Of course he does. It's not like Ianto and he haven't used those before. Memories flood his mind, and it is one of those rare times when thinking of past times makes him smile. Maybe he's just pretending to ignore the parts that would spoil the mood right now.

"Ah ah, ah, what's that you said earlier? Manners!" It never gets old, using John's own quips and moves against him. He should tell Ianto about that trick – John always finds it disconcerting. Although, to be honest, Ianto's probably figured that one out already – hence, the cuffs. Oh, that perceptive mind.

"Untie me." John shoots him a death glare, but underneath it, he's smiling – he's enjoying this. They both are. They were a good team, he and John. They had... something, a spark, an understanding, unique and different to every other partner he's ever had. "Now."As unique as what he and Ianto share, yet completely different.

He still can't believe Ianto changed his mind. Is it just curiosity that is dragging Ianto towards John, or has he found himself in somewhat the same situation Jack himself was in, between two (possible) lovers, each offering something he couldn't quite get himself to reject? He shakes his head. Not that it matters. Part of him starts conjuring the usual protective nonsense – he'll have John's head if he hurts Ianto, this'd better not be part of one of John's schemes. Part of him politely reminds him that, if Ianto finds himself being played with in a way he's not happy with, he'll deal with it himself in the usual way: quietly, efficiently, and leaving no mess behind.

"Maybe I should leave you there, until Ianto remembers you are here and comes down to take care of you." He takes a couple of steps and sits on the edge of the bed. "He'll add you to the usual rounds, maybe come down after he's fed Myfanwy, and dealt with the Weevils and Mainframe for the night." Taunting. Teasing. He checks his watch. "In about... fourteen hours." John pulls a face. "That'll give you plenty of time to get bored." And John gets very cranky and twitchy when he gets bored.

"I'm sure he's done this to you as well, so don't laugh." He leans in and kisses John, barely a brush of lips that brings back oh so much, before standing up – out of reach when John tries to catch him – and walking away. He stops at the door to flaunt a smile.

"Oh, yeah." Of course he has. But that is none of John's business. Yet. Maybe after Ianto puts John out of his misery and takes him to his bed. "But he always comes back for me, you know?"

"Can I at least have a TV in here?" He laughs. John will never change.

* * *

"You are full of surprises, Ianto Jones." Ianto looks up from the paperwork in front of him with the most innocent smile on his face and raises an eyebrow.

"I... wouldn't know what you are talking about". Of course not. How would Ianto know anything about John Hart being in his bed, cuffed to the headboard? If Gwen finds out, it'll take way too much explaining before she lets go of it. There's a moment of stillness, of calm, even, as Ianto puts the files away and stands up, hands smoothing the fabric of his trousers as he takes a couple of steps towards him. "Just checked the scanners. All the ships we found yesterday are still being sent back to wherever and whenever they came from."

"No escapees?" Somehow he knows this is not going to be just that easy. It never is with Garg'kats. He's seen them devour entire solar systems, turn planets into giant nurseries that could produce whole armies in just a few hours. They wouldn't have come here and now without a plan.

"None so far." Ianto hands him a pile of reports from the desk, fingers barely brushing against his, bringing last night back. "We're keeping an eye for..." A high-pitched buzzing interrupts him. Ianto reaches for his mobile phone and takes the call. When he hangs up, he looks positively worried. "That was Gwen. And we've got a problem."


	11. Tenth Move

_**Tenth move**_

The voices in the corridor wake him up. It can't be more than half an hour since Jack left – the bloody poison makes it hard to be accurate with time. Who's convinced who to come down again? He can't make out the words despite straining his ears. He tries to sit up as the door opens just a crack, but his body still seems to belong to somebody else.

"You can't be serious, Jack." Steps stop, a heavy sigh. "He's in no shape to be out there!" Eye Candy, once again the calm voice of reason. Jack mutters something he can't quite hear. "No!" He can't help but smile at Ianto's protective streak. No wonder Jack keeps him around. So would he, if he could. Just the right balance between blind loyalty and questioning disbelief – a rare trait indeed.

"It's not your decision." He tries to raise his voice, but his throat is still dry. Nonetheless, the door opens, and two pairs of impossibly blue eyes look at him from equally puzzled faces peeking from behind the half-opened door. He rolls his eyes - something he seems to be doing a lot lately; the scene feels like some stupid cartoon moment. He waves his free hand – not too much, the shoulder still hurts like Hell – and the two of them walk in, looking quite unsettled. "Whatever it is, if it concerns me, neither of you have any say on it. I'm all grown up, you know?" A pause. What's it gonna take to get them to talk? "What is it?"

He looks from Ianto to Jack and back; once again, they are both just standing there, hands in their pockets, mirroring each other. He tries the death glare – that always used to get Jack to own up. Eventually, Ianto sits on the edge of the bed. For a second, he half expects Jack to clear his throat or make some kind of sarcastic remark that will make Ianto jump away, but it never comes. If anything, there's a hint of curiosity in Jack's look.

"Another pod." He's not sure what shocks him more, the news or the look of concern on Eye Candy's face. Raising an eyebrow, he waits. Patience is not really his thing, but he has come to appreciate its usefulness. Ianto shuffles his feet, not sure how much to tell him. "Will be completely on this dimension soon, and we have nothing to contain it with, unless you have another spare battery." He shakes his head. Great. Another pause, a hand playing with the bed covers, almost nervously. "Quite a secluded area. Roundstone Woods." He tilts his head. "The army are already there. They've already lost four men."

"We need your help." The words seem to taste bitter to Jack. Not that he can blame him. Still, why the interruption? Is Ianto telling him too much, or is Jack just trying to reassert his authority? He smiles at the thought – between Ianto and PC Cooper, he'd be surprised if Jack manages to get through a single day without being questioned, not informed of something, or simply overruled by his own team. Ianto shoots Jack a meaningful look, and he pretends not to see the whole conversation they have without him. Not that he misses that. "If you think you can move." He lets out a sigh and tries, once again, to sit up. This time he – sort of – manages.

"Key." He holds up his hand in front of Ianto. The kid gives him a defiant look. He raises an eyebrow yet again. There is no time for this, however much he loves the cute, determined look in Ianto's face. The sooner they are done with this, the sooner he can come back here, collapse in bed, and sleep until it doesn't hurt anymore.

"No." He frowns. Swallows. Wonders _why_ Ianto is so concerned, cos he'll be damned if he's going to believe the paperwork excuse. Jack opens his mouth, then closes it again. Apparently, Captain I'm-In-Charge knows better than argue with Ianto when he decides to stand up to him. Well, well. Something stirs deep inside him, despite the poison, despite the wounds. The need to know just how strong Ianto's resolve is, just how much he'll have to push until Ianto capitulates.

"Ianto, if John wants to..." He holds Jack's gaze for a moment, reminding himself that Jack will side with – almost – anybody if it helps his plans – whether they involve the greatest con in the universe, or saving the world – then tilts his head towards the door. Jack stares back, and makes his best effort to miss the hint. After a while, eventually, he relents, and heads for the door. "Right, fight it off on your own, if you want to." When the door slams back into place, he turns back to Ianto, and holds his hand up again.

"Ianto, please. Key." Ianto shakes his head, and makes to get up and follow Jack. He takes a deep breath, feeling his mind start to clear just a little – whatever he's been given to counteract the poison seems to be having some kind of effect. Well, so be it, if Ianto wants to play the hard way, they'll play the hard way. "Why? Why are you so intent in going out there, outnumbered, barely armed, and _die_? I can help. You know that."

"You are wounded." Ianto looks away for barely a second. "You did more than enough yesterday."

"Why do you care?" At that, Ianto snorts. Fumbles for words. Looks at his feet. Fingers twist the cufflinks on his shirt. He allows himself a smile. Oh, Goddesses, Ianto actually _cares_. "I deserve to know, don't you think? After all, I'm the one you want to leave in this stinky basement, so tell me." Ianto shuffles around, finally standing up and taking a couple of steps towards him. For a second, he seems tempted to run a hand through his hair, to do _something_, but he just stares.

"When we come back. After all this mess is sorted." Ianto flashes a shaky smile. He raises his eyebrows, not sure whether Ianto is referring to the answering questions or the doing something part. Grabs Ianto's hand when he makes to walk away. The kid looks back at him. Shocked? Surprised? He can't really tell.

"Well, then, you'll really have to hand me that key." He gives Ianto his most innocent smile, and shakes his hand so that the bracelet jangles against the cuffs. "Cos I really want that answer. And I'm not going to let you die so you can wriggle out of it."

* * *

The surprised look in Jack's face when he walks – staggers, mostly – in the main area of the Hub is worth the pain, the headache, and the one or two stitches he might have pulled on the wound on his side. Leaning back on the wall, he lets go of Ianto's shoulder. Not that he really needed any help – it's just a chance to feel Ianto up. Or so he tries to tell himself.

"I'm not going to ask how you convinced him." Jack, standing by the door to his office, raises his hands in a mock defeat gesture, and grabs his coat from the hanger. Since when does Jack leave clothes in the appropriate places? It must have taken Ianto a lot of _persuading_ to get something like that through to Jack. Mind you – Ianto has already proven that he can be more than persuasive enough when needed. Jack walks towards the cog door, stops halfway through and turns around, trying not to appear concerned. "Are you sure you are up for this?"

He rolls his eyes and lets out an audible sigh. Of course he isn't, which idiot could look at him and think he is? But damned if he is going to let them go without him. Not because he cares what happens to this bloody hell-hole of a planet. Because he really doesn't. Although there is a tingling in the air that not even a rogue like him can ignore after so many years in the Agency.

"Of course." Jack smiles, that tense smile he came to know so well in their days together. "Just like old times." He pushes himself away from the wall, takes a few hesitant steps towards Ianto and takes the gun belt from him before realising he can't put it on with just one hand. Without a word, Ianto snatches it back, moves behind him, nudges his good arm out of the way and does up the buckles, fingers barely brushing against him. He swallows, trying to keep a straight face and hold Jack's gaze. When Ianto kneels behind him to tie the cords around his thighs, he nearly loses it, and not only because of the poison.

"Best dresser I've ever had this side of the 1910's." Jack's voice is full of praise, despite the snigger that follows. Ianto stands up, shaking non-existent dust off his hands, and slides the sword into its place on the belt. He opens his mouth to reply to Jack, some witty comeback or another, but closes it again when Ianto places a hand on his back. Trying not to wince at the moment, he follows Jack out of the Palace under the Pavement towards the car park.

* * *

As the SUV catches yet another bump on the road, he flinches. To his left, so does Ianto. It takes a moment for his brain to provide the answer: the bracelets. He curses under his breath. This stopped being a good idea about a bite and a stabbing ago.

"These need to come off." He shakes his hand in front of Ianto, who seems too absorbed in the screens in front of him to even notice the stab of pain the link just jolted him with. He stares at Jack on the rear view mirror. Three, two...

"Afraid you'll need a way out, John?" The snark is back, closer to good-humoured banter than to actual bile-fuelled annoyance and hatred. He rolls his eyes, wondering when it became one of his trademarks, as much as it is Ianto's.

"No, Jack, afraid Eye Candy here needs a clear head, and this," he shakes the bracelet again, "is not helping." Silence. Ianto looks from him to Jack and back. Jack pretends to concentrate on driving. "Try it yourself, if you don't believe me."

Before he knows it, Ianto's hands are on his, fidgeting with the clasp. Jack starts to say something, but Ianto shoots him a look that makes it very clear this is not a discussion. He can almost hear the muttered 'fine, do as you wish, on your head be it' that Jack is thinking. Long, slender fingers circle his wrist, and that simple touch is enough to make him yearn for more. Lowering his head, Ianto gives him a coy smile before finally opening the bracelet and putting it in his jacket pocket.

"Blimey." Ianto blinks a couple of time. "I didn't realise it was so... bad." As he undoes his own bracelet, he looks positively baffled. "You really should be in bed." He tries to look annoyed, but probably doesn't quite manage it.

"Yeah, well what about we leave that for some other time, when I can drag you in there with me," he watches the blush on Ianto's cheeks, "and concentrate on this other pod first?" He looks straight at Ianto. The kid looks away for a moment, then back. Shuffles on his seat. Pats his good shoulder, fingertips barely brushing his neck. His Immortalness huffs a bit on the driver seat.

"Oi! Behave there in the back seat!" Jack's grinning, despite his tone. Ianto snorts and takes his hand away.

"Just because you are too busy to join in..." For a second, the three of them snigger, before the weight of the situation falls on them again.

* * *

They make it to the military perimeter in about 17 minutes. The poison must be slowly clearing from his system if he is recovering the knack of tracking time. Without a Garg'kat nanny to shoot him another dose, his body should be able to completely get rid of it in about twenty-four hours. If he makes it that far.

He reaches for the flask in his jacket, hoping its contents will help, only to remember Ianto took it away to be mended. Without a word, Ianto digs into one of his own pockets and hands him the flask, eyes still fixed on the screen in front of him. There's a brush of fingers as he grabs it and takes a sip. Apparently nothing escapes Ianto. He likes the idea of some of the stuff he normally hides in his clothing now being stashed in Ianto's neat three-piece suit, but the look he gets when he hands the flask back makes it clear he shouldn't ask.

Jack brings the vehicle to a screeching halt just by what looks like the centre of all activity in the area; he nearly passes out. He opens his mouth, aiming for a snarky remark that may get through Jack's stubborn manner and remind him about the benefits of arriving in one piece, but the words catch in his throat – there is too much at stake right now.

He slides more than gets off the SUV, head still spinning more than is healthy when fighting Really Nasty Aliens. As usual, Ianto is already there before his feet hit the ground, hands casually stashed in his pockets – yet he's got no doubt he wouldn't fall hard if he lost his balance. Jack slams the front door and heads to the group of army personnel that seem to be running the show. When he comes back, followed by Gwen, he's frowning. Which, with Jack, is never a good sign.

"On the good news front, they finally swallowed their pride and talked to U.N.I.T." Opening the boot of the SUV, Jack starts rummaging through it. "They have some sort of device that can track these things." Interesting. "At least for a short period of time, while there is still residual energy from folding space-time."

"And the bad news?" Ianto runs a hand through his hair in what he's come to identify as a nervous gesture. Jack seems to freeze for a moment. Even though he can't see his face from where he's standing, he can picture the haunted look Jack always get when he's about to put people in danger.

"There's a lot of them in the pod. And a few of them outside." Gwen takes a sip of a plastic cup that probably contains coffee. Personally, he feels more inclined for a bottle of good scotch right now – end of the world and all that – but that will have to wait. "They have teams out there chasing the ones that made it out, and they are waiting for the really big guns to blow the whole thing up once it is completely in this dimension, but until then, we can't touch it." Gwen doesn't sound happy about it. He can't help but roll his eyes – under that hardened exterior, PC Cooper still hates being reminded that most aliens are not cuddly bunnies and most definitely do not come in peace. "Until then, there's only one thing we can do." He snorts. All eyes turn to him.

"What?" No. Oh, no, not again. "What?" The look in Jack's face leaves no room for misinterpretation. "You know as well as I do that the closer something is to actually being here, the harder it is to send it back." Jack stares at him. For a moment, he entertains the thought that maybe, just maybe, His Immortalness will be happy to let him die in there – that would, after all, take him out of the equation, and make things between Jack and Ianto a bit less complicated. But it is only a moment, until he remembers that Jack actually went into one of these things to get him out, when he could easily have left him there to die.

"Someone has to go in there, and send it back." Jack's voice is full of future regrets, like it has been ever since he first come back pursuing the Arcadian diamond. As if he were already blaming himself for people that hadn't been hurt yet. "We can't wait until it crosses."

"John's in no shape to do it." He turns towards Ianto, who's standing in front of Jack, eyebrows raised, cute look of determination in his face. He's about to retort when the kid opens that kissable mouth again. "Not on his own, anyway." No. This is madness. Ianto can't be suggesting... "I'll go with him."

"No!" Surprisingly – or not so much – he and Jack snap back at the same time. Even Gwen spins around, a look of pure disbelief in her face. "If anybody other than John is walking in there, it'll be me." Jack stares at Ianto, defying him to argue the point. He's got to give it to Jack, the protective streak suits him.

"If you are planning on using this to determine who's the most stubborn of you three, I suggest you all go in there." Gwen's voice is cold when she raises her hands in mock defeat. "Cos if we have to wait for you, these things will have taken over before you move." Ianto clears his throat and looks away, hiding away a cute pout. Jack shakes his head as he checks one of the big guns and passes it to Ianto. "I'll coordinate with U.N.I.T from here and make sure the lads don't shoot the pod while you are still in there." She turns around and walks back towards one of the tents. "Although I may change my mind about that one if you keep annoying me!"

_**Countermeasure**_

Taking a deep breath, Ianto forces himself to relax just a fraction, to loosen the grip on the gun in his hands. It feels strange to get so close to something both Jack and John consider more dangerous than the average alien Torchwood is used to deal with. Not that that means much these days – every day seems to be worse than the last one: more incidents, nastier creatures, more times when normal weapons are not at all effective. Sometimes it feels like somebody – something – is testing their defences, trying to find a way past them. To Cardiff, and, from there, to the world. Shaking his head, he pushes the thoughts away.

"Remind me again. Why are you two here?" Gun on his left hand, right one still hanging to his side, John manages to tap a few buttons on his wriststrap and get the panel on the side of the pod, still a few feet ahead, to open. Well, as far as he's concerned, if somebody shouldn't be here, it is John: he's still pale, and looks like he could keel over at the slightest poke. And somehow he doesn't expect the Garg'kats to be gentle.

"We're your nannies." Jack snaps back with a smile, but he can tell, under the pretences, Jack's worried. "How close do you need to get?" John doesn't stop, doesn't turn around. He can't help but wonder how the rogue is coping with this – he's not an easy man to read. Much as he hates to admit it, he nearly misses the bracelets, even with the jolts of pain that every now and again would shake him through them.

"For something this size, and nearly on this dimension, very." Of course, why would things be easy, just this once? "And unless you are expecting me to stand in there until it is fully back where it came from, I need a terminal." He grimaces; walking into a pod full of those... creatures still sounds like a Very Bad Idea That Will Get Us All Killed. Yet another day at Torchwood Three.

Jack, looking not at all happy about this, sneaks into the pod through the opening. John follows him, still tapping on his Vortex Manipulator. With a last look around and a deep breath, he goes in after them. He's not entirely sure how he manages not to throw up and keep moving despite the stench. The corridor around him is covered in some kind of vines that reach out to them as they walk.

"Don't let them touch you." He rolls his eyes at Jack's warning – he's not the one who has made a habit of letting aliens catch him, hurt him or even kill him, but pointing that out right now doesn't seem appropriate. "Shoot them if you have to." The whirring noise is louder in here, but it disappears as they enter the chamber at the end of the corridor.

"Oh God." The stench of the room is even worse than it was outside, and it fills his mouth, his nostrils. For once, he's grateful he never got around to having breakfast. Along the walls, a battery of bowl-shaped spaces seem to be waiting for a body to hook up. Four of them are already full. Amongst the tendrils and vines and oozing substances, he can barely make out the army uniforms, empty eyes and lifeless skin.

"Closest terminal is always the nursery." John curses under his breath and walks towards what he presumes is the console, and taps a few buttons on his wriststrap. "Should've warned you, Eye Candy." He shakes his head, dismissing John's words. Jack takes a few steps towards him and places a hand on the small of his back. Supportive. Reassuring. "Maybe then you would have waited outside."

"You okay?" He nods, quite certain that opening his mouth again wouldn't be such a good idea. Jack pats his shoulder and walks towards John. Soon the conversation derives into something that reminds him of the space-time folding documents back in Torchwood One: he can get the gist of it, but most of it is as obscure as an alien language. John curses, snaps his Vortex Manipulator closed, and nearly falls over when he turns around too quickly. Luckily, Jack catches him on time, and helps him gently to the floor.

From the other end of the room, gun trained on the still open door, Ianto swallows hard at the sight. Jack's attitude towards John seem to have changed since their conversation last night. He can't help but wonder exactly why Jack was so determined to kick the rogue out of 21st century Cardiff before that. Was John right when they talked in his hotel room, and Jack doesn't trust himself around John? Or was Jack just trying to make sure that John didn't make walking away from him any harder than it needed to be? Knowing Jack, he'll never get a straight answer.

"It's not working." John's voice breaks the eerie silence in the room. "It should be working, damn it!" Jack looks over John's shoulder and frowns.

"Are you sure you are using the right data?" John pulls a face, rolls his eyes and seems about to slap Jack when he checks his wriststrap again, his expression changes and he curses.

"Unbelievable." He raises an eyebrow. "The readings in here are completely different from the ones I was getting outside. That's why it isn't working, it is already fully on this dimension, it has been for a few hours already! How the Hell did that happen? These things are supposed to be accurate, for fuck's sake!" John closes his Vortex Manipulator again. "I suggest we get out of here, blow it up, and hope for the best." John's left arm is curled around his middle, as if to help himself stand up. When he takes it away, there's fresh blood on his t-shirt. He curses under his breath. John shouldn't be here. He taps his headset.

"Gwen?" A torrent of questions from the other end of the line. "Nothing we can do from here. We're coming out." A pause. "How long until we can...?" He leaves the question in the air, not sure whether the Garg'kats are listening. "We'll let you know as soon as we are at a safe distance."

Just as they head back for the corridor, Jack almost carrying John, the doorway seals itself before his very eyes. Behind him, both Jack and John swear. It's never good news when Jack does that. A moment later, something knocks him to the ground. The last thing he sees before his eyes close is Jack lying on the floor, one arm around John's shoulders, the other stretching out towards him. Then, everything goes black.


	12. Eleventh Move

_**Eleventh Move**_

He comes around with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Everything around him is blurry, and something is tying him down so tightly he can barely breath. After blinking a couple of times, his eyes finally start to focus. Pain shoots through him when he tries to move as the wound on his side opens and blood trickles down. In front of him, Ianto is lying on the floor, bound by vines and still out. To his right, he can see Jack already in one of the nursing cubicles, ready to be hooked as a nursery.

Cursing, he pulls at his restraints, but to no avail – if anything, they get tighter. At least his arms are in front of him, and he's not tied to the wall. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he moves, much slower than he'd want to, until he is close enough to kick Ianto. Eye Candy is going to kill him for rumpling the suit, if they make it out of here. After a couple of not-so-careful nudges, Ianto opens his eyes and sits up, looking around.

"Where's Jack?" Well, that's one question he'd rather not answer. "You are bleeding." There it is again, the look of concern. He can't help but think that, if they survive this, he may actually get what he came for. He shuffles around a bit, so that Ianto can get to his boot.

"Can you reach the knife?" Ianto struggles to his knees and feels for the handle, fingers nimbly squeezing between the leather and the denim, and for a second he just forgets it all – the blood, the burning on his side, the feeling that he's about to collapse and never wake up again. It takes a good couple of minutes before Ianto manages to get hold of the knife. A bit more shuffling, and Ianto is standing in front of him, ragged breath hot on his collar as he starts cutting through the vines restraining him up. Well, that settles it: Ianto Jones just made the top of his "who to get stuck with at the end of the Universe" list: resilient, a fighter, and capable of turning him on even in the middle of a life-and-death situation. What else could he ask for?

"Gwen?" Ianto's voice brings him back to here and now. He can't help but wonder how Ianto managed to answer the call, although he has an inkling that the kid is good at doing things when his hands are otherwise engaged. "We are trapped, we need some time!" A pause, a frown forming on his face. "Do what you can." When Ianto looks at him again, it's obvious it is not good news. "We have five minutes to get out of here." Of course. The big guns have arrived, as always, too late to avoid their suicidal excursion, and too early to give them a decent chance to make it back to safety. By the Goddesses, how he hates fieldwork. Well, not really. Just when it goes bad.

It takes one minute, forty-three seconds for Ianto to cut through the vines that tie him. One minute, forty-three seconds of watching Jack slowly but surely being hooked up by the Garg'kat nursery. One minute, forty-three seconds of hearing the mumbled screams of pain that Jack can't really let out after the paralysing poison starts having effect. One minute, forty-three seconds of watching emotions play on Ianto's generally calm and self-controlled expression. One minute, forty-three seconds of wondering if they'll make it, if Jack will be okay, if Ianto will manage to keep a steady hand, and why he always ends up caring for those who seem to enjoy keeping their distance from him.

He stands up when the vines fall to the floor, letting go of him. Blood is still trickling from the wound on his side, making moving more painful than he expected. But there's no time for that. He takes out his gun and shoots at the vines on the floor before they have a chance to reattach themselves. Then shoots at the mass of tendrils on the wall behind Jack. It won't stop the process, but it will at least slow it down. Ianto hands him the knife, but he's got better plans.

"Don't move." He puts away the gun, and struggles to get his sword out. No better blade in the galaxy, despite it being quite an old relic. Ianto looks up at him, unsure. "Trust me. Just this once, trust me." He looks straight into Ianto's eyes, and hopes he will believe him. With a well practised movement, he brings the sword down on the vines holding Ianto, then away and back into the scabbard. Ianto grabs the gun from his right holster and shoots at the mass on the floor. Carefully, he brings a hand to Ianto's back. "There. Didn't even touch the lining, though I'm afraid there's a nasty slash on the jacket itself." Ianto spins around and shoots him a murderous look for a moment. Then it softens into a smile. "Not up to my usual standards, but not bad for a half dead man."

"Let's get Jack out of here." He nods.

* * *

Carrying a still paralysed Jack between the two of them, they somehow manage to walk back to the airlock and out into the woods. Ianto takes a couple of mouthfuls of clean air, as if trying to wash away the stench of the inside of the ship as they keep going – big guns have this mania of sometimes not having such good aim, and the last thing he needs now is to get caught by friendly fire.

Just as Ianto taps his headset, something flies above them, leaving a vapour trail behind before plummeting onto the Garg'kat pod with a really loud bang and a shock wave strong enough to throw them to the ground, even at this distance. Through the ringing in his ears, he can barely hear Ianto reassuring Gwen that they are okay, all of them, yes, even John. Slowly, he brings himself to his knees and checks on Jack while Ianto is still busy on the phone.

It doesn't look good, not even for His Immortalness. He's probably been connected to the nursery for long enough to get the first doses of poison, paralyser and enzymes – a combination that will keep the body alive for at least five days even without a repeated dose. Jack's eyes are open, but the pain is probably clouding his mind enough for him not to register much, if anything at all. In several places, his clothes are covered with blood where the vines and tentacles bit into flesh. He runs his fingers through Jack's hair, hoping he'll know he's not alone, and no longer in the pod.

When he rests his hand on Jack's chest, feeling for the weak but steady heartbeat, one of Jack's hands closes around his wrist. Maybe immortality has other traits to its name – nobody with so much poison should be able to move at all, let alone that fast.

"How bad... is it?" Jack's voice is weak, and something stirs deep inside him, memories of other times and other places, when everything went to shit and they both ended up lying low and nursing wounds that would take time to heal, even with 51st century medicine. Of times when he thought they wouldn't make it. Of the unwritten pact they always had of never lying to each other about this.

"Bad." Jack looks at him, and he can tell he's struggling to focus, to see anything around him. "I can't tell exactly, but they shot you at least twice." Behind him, he can hear Ianto walking around in circles, still on the phone to Gwen. "You have one Hell of an agony ahead of you, assuming you don't die halfway through it, Jack." He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. "Not that it matters, with you." Jack swallows. Raises his eyebrows, just about chuckles, as if he had said something funny. Gives him a strange look.

"Please." It takes a moment for it all to click. And when it does, he can't believe his ears. Jack can't be asking him to... No, he can't. Although he knows it makes sense. Jack will probably die anyway, that's what eventually happens with Garg'kat venom. It would save him the pain. Allow him to heal and come back as good as new.

He shakes his head. He can't. Yes, he has killed Jack before, but that was different. There was a good reason for it. He was trying to keep him away from Gray. He was trying to... save Jack from an eternity of torture and pain by giving him a quick death. He sighs. Maybe not so different after all.

"Why don't you get Eye Candy to do your dirty work for you, Jack?" He doesn't really mean it. Of course he doesn't. He's just stalling, looking for other ways of dealing with this. Because he really doesn't want to do it. His left hand feels its way around the front of his boot, looking for the same narrow blade Ianto used just yesterday to cut his shirt off after he was bitten. Fingers close around the handle, but he can't get himself to unsheathe it.

"Ianto has... enough... on his..." Closing his eyes, he puts a finger to Jack's lips. Of course Jack would ask Ianto if he had to. But Ianto is still, as much as Torchwood allows, a young soul. Not remotely as bleak and dark as he – or Jack himself – is, after all those years in the Time Agency, all those missions, all those cons.

"You really care about the kid, don't you?" He pulls the blade out of his boot as he run his right hand through Jack's hair, ignoring the stab of pain on his shoulder. He blinks away the tears, not wanting to know where they come from.

"So do you..." Oh, Jack, the bastard. Of course he'd know. "That's why... you'll do it." He brings the blade to Jack's chest, fingers feeling for the ribs. "Quietly." He runs a hand along Jack's jawline. Holds his head. Forces himself to stare into those eyes. "No mess."

He nods. With a deep breath, he lifts his hand and brings the blade down in a swift gesture, aiming first for the heart, then for the lungs. Blood spurts out from the wounds, splattering him, mixing with his own on his t-shirt. He brings the knife up one more time, and aims for the throat. He tastes blood as he bites his lip, watching life escape Jack's body. Jack's hand slips from his as he leans forward to leave a kiss on the still warm lips.

"I'm sorry." It's barely a whisper, and he knows Jack won't hear it. He just wishes the list of things he is apologizing for stopped growing. Cleaning the blade on his own shirt, he stashes it away before slowly standing up. With a bit of luck, Jack will be back before Ianto hangs up to PC Cooper, and...

He stops halfway through turning around when he catches sight of Ianto leaning on a tree, barely half a dozen steps away. For a moment, he can't quite figure out what's going through Ianto's head. Although, knowing him, Eye Candy knows as well as he does why he's done what he's done. It's just a matter of head over heart. And, in Ianto, both are equally strong forces. He raises an eyebrow, not sure what to say. If only Jack would wake up and save him the explaining...

"Thank you." He blinks in surprise. Swallows. Watches as Ianto comes closer, kneels by Jack's side and cradles his head, fingers running lightly over the wounds that are already closing. When he looks up again, there's genuine concern on his face. "You need to get that wound looked at."

_**Countermeasure**_

When he hangs up to Gwen, after a way too long litany of 'yes we are all more or less okay', 'no, you don't need to worry', and other similar phrases that she never seems to hear – or believe – regardless of how many times he repeats them, he makes his way back to Jack and John. He's not entirely sure who of them he should be most worried about just now. Jack got the worst of the alien nursery, and from the few bits and pieces he's managed to gather, that is not good at all. John still seems to be fighting the poison in his system, and being out here so soon can't be good for his wound.

"Please." Jack's weak voice barely carries from where he's still lying on the ground. A shiver runs down his spine, and it is not a good one. He knows what Jack is pleading for, because he's heard it before. Something inside him shakes and wants to run away, like every time. He _knows_ Jack will go through Hell on Earth with that poison in his system. He _knows_ it will be much less painful if he dies sooner rather than later.

But he still hates it when Jack dies. The uncertainty of whether he'll come back or not, despite Jack's reassurances that he will, he always will, because that is his curse. The disbelief that the body in front of him is still Jack but at the same time is no longer Jack, at least not until he comes back. The way Jack gasps for air and claws the air around him when he wakes up, as if he were looking for something to ground him, to help him cross back from wherever it is he goes when he dies.

Yet he can't walk away. Just like the times when Jack asked him for help, and all he could get himself to do was hand him his own Webley and get out of the way, but he couldn't walk away. He watches as John brings out the blade, narrow and sharp. He watches the intimacy between them, realizing just how deep the bond between them runs. He watches John's tenderness mixed with teasing about Jack caring too much about him to ask him to do this, and still dumping the dirty work on John's lap. If only John knew. He watches Jack's insistent plea. He watches John bring down the blade. Once, twice, three times. He wants to run away, but his feet seem to be rooted on the ground.

When John starts cleaning the blade, he lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and tells himself – for what must be the millionth time – that Jack will be back soon, and that this is for the better. When John turns around and catches him staring, he's not entirely sure what to say.

"Thank you." Slowly, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, he kneels by Jack's lifeless body and settles his head on his lap. The wounds close before his very own eyes. He can imagine the damage inflicted by the poison and the other alien drugs being repaired, the Universe restoring Jack to his former self. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the crimson stain on John's t-shirt still growing. "You need to get that wound looked at."

John stands behind him, a hand on his shoulder, reassuring, then ruffling through his hair. He leans into the touch, not entirely sure why, but not really wanting to know either. This is the one thing he and John have in common: Jack. Caring way much more than healthy for a man that will leave them both behind, even if they – somehow – manage to live past retirement age, and knowing there is nothing they can do about it.

"I could never do that for him." Can't even think about it. Not even knowing he'll be back. Even back when Jack killed Lisa – what used to be Lisa – he couldn't get himself to plot Jack's death by action, only to wish something would happen and he could just stand there and watch it unfold. No, he could never take Jack's life.

"Of course you would." John's voice is soft. Full of certainties. Full of concern, even. "If you had to." He shakes his head. Not that John needs to know the details. That is between him and Jack.

"He'll be back soon." Is he reassuring John, or himself? Probably both. John kneels beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer. He goes with it, hands still running through Jack's hair, grateful not to be alone while Jack is not Jack and everything reminds him how fucked up his life is. John places a kiss on his temple, and for a moment he's tempted to turn around and respond in kind. But it doesn't seem appropriate. John lets out a sigh, a puff of hot air just behind his ear, and he shivers, this time in a good way.

John makes to pull away when Jack gasps for air and reaches out, but a hand on his thigh seems to stops him. Jack's hands close around his arm, holding on as if for dear life, while John tightens his hold on him. When Jack opens his eyes, full of life again, he smiles.

"Couldn't wait for me, you two?" He rolls his eyes as the three of them get up with varying degrees of speed and pain. If Jack's already cracking jokes, there's nothing to worry about. Other than the dry cleaning, the cover up, the weevils, Myfanwy and dinner.

Just another bloody day at Torchwood Three. With added rogue Time Agent and flirting.


	13. Twelfth Move

_**Twelfth Move**_

He nearly passes out on the way back to the command post. The wound on his side is still bleeding, blood dripping and leaving a dark stain that stretches down to his jeans. Even leaning on Ianto, walking is not easy. Hell, standing up is a challenge right now. Ianto keeps a hand on his back, supportive, holding him steady amongst muttered curses to stubborn people who insist on being out in the field when they obviously shouldn't. A few steps behind, Jack, Webley drawn, looks his usual poster boy self, except for the holes the vines left in his clothing.

"I'll be okay." He barely manages a whisper when they stop for a moment, his back against a tree. Ianto takes a couple of steps away, checking around him. Something is making Eye Candy twitchy, and it isn't just the Garg'kats. He'll have to hack into the Torchwood files and dig out the history of this place. "You have blood on your suit."

Shaking his head as if he had been miles away from here, Ianto looks down, then stares at him. There it is, that something he can't quite decipher that could mean Ianto is about to smash him against the wall and fuck him senseless, or about to put a bullet through his head.

"It'll come off." He raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "We have very good dry-cleaners." Of course. Hopefully one that doesn't ask too many questions. No doubt Torchwood pays enough for them to turn a blind eye to the gore that gets on their clothes. "Do you think you can carry on?" He nods. Ianto slides a hand between his back and the tree, helping him back to his feet, mindful of his bitten shoulder. He can't help but smile.

* * *

Gwen is waiting outside the main tent, arms crossed in front of her and frantically pacing up and down when they finally make it back. When she turns around and sees them, she runs past them, just as he expected, towards Jack, asking for all the details: what happened, how the Garg'kats trapped them, how they managed to get out, everything. It is only when Jack walks up to them that she appears to notice the blood.

"Oh my God, what happened?" He raises his eyebrows and looks at Ianto, who's already looking around for the medpoint. "Ianto, are you okay?" Her hands go up to the slash on Ianto's jacket. That's it, Sweet Cheeks, never mind the guy bleeding to death just beside the cute suit.

"Yes, PC Cooper, Eye Candy here is still in one piece." He pushes himself away from Ianto and takes a couple of tentative steps on his own. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need to get myself stitched up again."

"Is he...?" He doesn't hear the full question, or the reply to it, if she gets any.

He's halfway to the medical tent when a hand on his good shoulder makes him stop. He spins around, a snarky reply already on his lips before he realizes it is Ianto. Closing his eyes to fight the vertigo, he struggles to keep himself upright.

"She does care." He nods. He know she does. She's just not too good at showing it, sometimes. "Come on, let's get you checked up before you bleed out."

* * *

Six stitches, over a dozen recommendations to stay in bed – no, really, don't even think of moving – and take care not to pull the stitches again, plus Ianto rolling his eyes more times than it is healthy in twenty-seven minutes, thirty-three seconds, the army doctor, who seemed quite taken aback by his flirting – what's with this century, really? - finally leaves. By the Goddesses, how he misses nanogenes. Next time he stops by a time when medicine is something more than prodding and probing he'll have to get some to carry around. Either that or give up saving the world.

Half-sitting, half-lying on a camp bed, he crosses his hands on his stomach, only to move them away with a hiss of pain as he barely touches the freshly stitched wound. He definitely won't be seeing any action of any kind for a few days. Which is a pity, since Eye Candy seems to finally be coming around, judging by the way he's staring at him and playing with the shreds of what used to be his t-shirt, and he hates to disappoint. Or may be it is just wishful thinking.

"Why did you insist on coming along?" Ianto sits on the empty bed beside him, elbows on his knees. "You could have died in there." He snorts. Yes, well, he accepted dying a horrible death as an occupational hazard a long time ago. Still, probably Ianto has a point – he's more a liability than an asset right now. "We could have..." Yes, of course. Things can always be done differently.

"I wanted to help." How does Ianto always manage that? He's a conman, has lied his way through time and space for long enough to be known by reputation in more galaxies than he cares to remember. Yet Ianto Jones and his fuck-me half smile somehow manage to get the truth out of him. No doubt Eye Candy has had more than enough chances to hone his charm with His Immortalness. Twisting his head, since he can't really move, he stares at Ianto, defiant.

"Why?" He pulls a face. That is a question he really doesn't want to answer right now. Because he knows Ianto won't settle for the usual set of half-truths he's been spinning for the last couple of days. Because he's still not entirely sure where they stand. Because, pure and simple, John Hart is not one to admit that he cares. Because he doesn't, really. Somehow can't he get himself to believe that anymore.

"Does it matter?" Silence. A heartbeat. Two. Three. Ianto's eyes still on his, demanding, as if he knew already he'll get the answers he wants, sooner rather than later. He lets out a sigh and squares his back. If Ianto wants truth, truth he'll get. "Because I'd hate to see you get killed just because His Immortalness sometimes forgets the rest of us can actually die and stay dead." He swallows. "Because I'd hate to see what those... things in there would do to Jack if they used him as a nursery." Ianto shivers and looks away. "You know how bad a single bite is, I'm sure you can picture the effects of the full treatment."

"You still care for him." He opens his mouth to reply, but the words don't come out. Of course he does. He never stopped caring. Not even when Jack walked out on him, even though he never knew why. Ianto looks back at him, and, for a second, he looks a bit lost. As if he weren't quite sure which way is up, or how to get himself out of the mess he is in. His hair is still ruffled from where he ran his fingers through it earlier. He nods. Ianto takes a deep breath.

"Not only him." Ianto doesn't even flinch. Master of the poker face, he's got to give that to him. He tries to sit up; a hand on his shoulder stops him as Ianto sits on the edge of his bed. He aims for a snarky remark, but his brain is still half-fried, between the poison and the drugs the doctor gave him. "You should know that by now." Ianto nods, that cute smile on his face that makes him feel Ianto has known for a long time, and has only been stringing him along and making him wonder, and played with the hunter as much as he plays with his prey. "Oh, you bastard."

"Learnt from the best." Before he knows it, Ianto is kissing him, and this time it feels like he really means it. He brings his hands to Ianto's tie, slowly undoing it and sliding it off the collar. He's not going to fall for the trick with the cuffs again – if Ianto wants to keep him in bed, he's going to have to come up with something better than that. Although something tells him that they are past the whole hide and seek they've been playing for the last couple of days. This time, there doesn't seem to be any hidden agenda.

Ianto's fingers trace his jawline, ghost down his neck, moving slowly, as if mapping unfamiliar territory, filing away every reaction. Oh, how he is going to enjoy this, despite the pain, the poison, the feeling he is about to pass out and all the other things he could do without. He struggles to undo the collar of Ianto's shirt. Rakes his nails just hard enough for the kid to feel them on his neck. Bites the lips pressing against his and watches the surprise play out on Ianto's face for just a second. Half-stifled needy noises fill the room. Tent. Whatever.

When Ianto pulls away, running a hand down his chest, carefully avoiding his wounds, he's positively panting. Well, they both are, and that's always a good start.

"You should rest." He raises his eyebrows and snorts.

"Yeah, right." Ianto rolls his eyes. "Like that's what's on your mind right now. _Resting_." He brings a hand to Ianto's thigh. Nothing more enjoyable than making him jump a little with small things like that.

"Maybe not." Oh, there it is again, Ianto's hunting smile. Yep, that's what it is. The one that lures the prey into a false sense of security just before Ianto shows his real moves. "But you'll need some rest first if you want to have some fun."

He's still looking for a comeback when Jack walks in. He looks up, defiant, hand squeezing Ianto's thigh. Well, here we go. The moment of truth. Jack catching his lover sleeping with the enemy, sort to speak. Jack just smiles, looking from Ianto to him and back. Then laughs.

"We are in the middle of saving the world." Yeah, like that ever mattered before. Surely Jack and Eye Candy have had more than their share of end-of-the-world shags. "Couldn't you two at least wait until we are back at the Hub?"

"Does that mean I get to stay?" He aims for casual, as if it really didn't matter, even though somehow he's sure they both see right through him and all his bluffs, like they have been doing for the last couple of days. Damn Jack for knowing every trick in the conman's handbook and even having written a few himself. Damn Ianto and his fine instinct when it comes to people.

"Well, I think it's only fair we give him a room until he's back on his feet." Jack's looking at Ianto now, that twinkling in his eyes that always meant good things, back in the day. "What do you think?" Ianto stands up, takes the ties from his hand, and walks up to Jack, patting him on the shoulder as he leaves the tent. "I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

"I still think it is a bad idea to keep him here." Oh, great. Gwen has gone all self-righteous again. Just what he needed, a ride back to the Palace under the Pavement with PC Cooper bickering at everybody, after nearly pulling his stitches _again_ by insisting on walking to the SUV. There is only so much indignity a man can bear in a day, and an army shirt is about as low as he'll fall today. So no being carried around for John Hart, thanks very much.

"I can hear you, you know?" He shuffles a bit more, trying to ease the pain on his side. "All I said is, if I am going to stay, I want my own room. Comfortable as Eye Candy's is, the decoration is seriously lacking." Ianto shoots him a death glare that he dismisses with a shrug. "Don't look at me like that, you don't even have mirrors in there. And don't get me started on the bed..."

"Hey, what's wrong with that bed?" Of course, Jack would have something to say about it. "Have you got any idea how complicated it was to get it down there?"

"Well, next time get one a decent size, will you? You can't even roll around on that one." Gwen growls and buries her face on her hands muttering something about not wanting to know. "Seriously, I don't know how you two manage..."

"Actually..." Ianto snorts and never finishes the sentence. Jack chuckles. Gwen tries to hide even more. Oh, he's going to have so much fun. Once he can move again without flinching, that is. He really needs to get some nanogenes. And he doesn't give a damn that there is a very good reason why there are rules and regulations about keeping them 'in the appropriate times in History'.

* * *

It takes them nearly half an hour to get back, thanks to the bloody traffic. Jack could have used the emergency lights, but of course PC Cooper had to object to it, 'since there was no real emergency to attend to'. Jack seriously needs to rethink his approach to being the one in charge, because letting everybody have a say doesn't seem to be working too well.

"Are you sure you can walk?" A few steps away, Jack is already making his way through the secret door into the Hub, followed by a very insistent Gwen still going on about how bad an idea it is to have John Hart around. Ianto is holding the door open as he struggles to get off the SUV, one careful – and painful – movement after another. He nods, although probably every doctor on this planet would disagree with him.

The door slams behind him and there it is again, that hand on the small of his back, making him curse 21st century medicine and its rudimentary approach to just about _everything_. He'd take the kid to bed right now if he didn't think he'd bleed out – the army medic said something about the wound nearly nicking a major artery, although he knows how loosely doctors use the term 'nearly' – and pass out halfway through even the gentlest of sessions. And somehow he doesn't think Ianto likes it that gentle. At least not all the time.

When they make it to the main area, Jack is already in his office, having what looks like an old-married-couple style discussion with Gwen. Ianto pulls a face and keeps going, ignoring them. When he raises an eyebrow, inquisitive, Eye Candy just shakes his head.

"Get used to it. They fight, they argue, then they disagree some more." Ianto seems to take it in his stride just as any other fact of life in Torchwood. "She'll get it, one day." He doesn't ask. Ianto doesn't tell. They just keep walking down the corridors until they reach Ianto's room. His room, at least for the time being.

"So, can I have a bigger place than this?" Ianto snorts. "I need my space, you know. Plenty of things to buy." Before he knows it, Ianto has taken off his gun belt, and is hanging it on the back of a chair. He winces as he sits on the bed. Ianto crouches in front of him and starts undoing his boots, fingers nimble at the buckles and laces. He watches, tantalized, wondering what else those hands are good at. "And can I get a company credit card?"

"No." Ah, the smile. The one Ianto tries to hide as he takes the boots away and places them at the bottom of the bed. "And we'll see about the room." When he turns around again, he's schooled his expression again. "Anything else you need help with?"

"Shirt." He really could shake it off, the way it is barely perching on his injured shoulder, but he finds the touch of Ianto's hands quite soothing as he slides the garment off him, careful not to touch the wounds. "Jeans?" He puts on his most innocent smile. Ianto gives him a don't-push-your-luck look. He pouts. "I'll manage." Ianto nods and just stands there. "What, are you gonna stay and tuck me in?" They both laugh, a bit giddy with the relief of still being alive after the day. Slowly, he slithers up the bed so he's sitting with this back on the headboard. "There. I'll be okay, Ianto."

It feels like slow motion as Ianto takes a couple of steps towards the bed, leans down and kisses him again, a hand moving down his chest, barely bushing against the waistband of his jeans before coming back up, holding him down. He goes with it. Fists his hands on Ianto's jacket. Bites, licks, sucks, gives as good as he's getting. Wants more. Needs more. Lets his hand trail down Ianto's body, down past down his belt, his already hard cock, his thigh, then up again.

It feels good. Too good to let Ianto go when he reluctantly pulls away, but he's in no shape to entertain him now. He holds Ianto's gaze, and those eyes look way too old on that face. Just like his own sometimes. Just like Jack's. Of course. That's where Ianto will be tonight. With Jack.

"You'd better be." With that, Ianto walks to the door, turns the light off, and leaves the room. He raises his eyebrows and lies down as best as he can. Something tells him that Jack needs Ianto more than he does tonight. Besides, he really needs to sleep.

_**Countermeasure**_

"Do you think that was the end of it?" Jack nearly jumps out of his chair. He's been sitting in the dark for a while now, ever since Gwen finally left, most likely to complain to Rhys about the stubbornness of Captain Harkness. He didn't hear Ianto walk in, but he has the knack of doing that and seemingly appearing out of nowhere in the middle of his office – or, in this case, leaning on the door frame – when he's least expecting. It's scary sometimes. In the semi-darkness – the Hub is never really dark, with all the emergency lights – he can't really make out Ianto's expression.

"What, of Gwen trying to convince us it's not a good idea to keep John around?" Ianto nods, taking a few steps into the room, hands stashed in his pockets. He quite likes this, the darkness. Seems like every meaningful conversation he's ever had with Ianto – and with a lot of other people – has been in the dark. "Not a chance in Hell." He can just about see Ianto's lip curl in the beginning of a smile. "For once, he was right. He helped." He pulls a face. Strange as it is, John Hart, conman, Time Agent and mostly a rogue, known as the man you could only rely on to save his own skin and the bounty and leave you behind when things got tough, has actually put his life on the line to _help_. "I can barely believe it myself, we can't expect Gwen to trust him." Ianto walks around the desk and perches on the edge, hands still in his pockets.

"Well, you have to admit a Vortex Manipulator comes in handy sometimes." Hello? He raises his hand and shakes it towards Ianto. "A _fully working_ Vortex Manipulator. Flashy as yours is, I don't think it would have helped send the Garg'kats home." Well, it would have, if a certain Doctor didn't insist on messing around with it every time he manages to fix it.

"So, that's it?" He takes a deep breath. "Are we letting him stay just cos he's got useful toys?" Ianto laughs and kicks off his shoes. Which, in and of itself, is a rare occurrence. Good thing he took his boots off earlier.

"No." A hand on his cheek, and he leans into the touch. It is in moments like this, after the world, the timelines and everything else has nearly been twisted, blown up or otherwise destroyed, that he has come to best appreciate Ianto's blunt honesty. "I don't think John's playing us, despite what Gwen may say. Plus, he seems to make a good decoy target." Ianto winks. Oh, that wonderful mind behind that smile. He stands up, pushing the chair away. Nudges Ianto's knees apart and settles between them, resting his chin on Ianto's shoulder, closing his arms around him. His fingers find the gash on the jacket, and the whole day comes rushing back to him.

"What happened?" Ianto lets out a sigh as lips ghost over his neck where the collar of the shirt has moved away. "You never..." Fortunately, he can't remember much of the time between being hooked to the Garg'kat ship and waking up in the forest.

"John cut through the...vines. Pretty steady pulse for a man who could barely stand up straight." He pulls away just a fraction, enough to slide his hands between Ianto's shirt and jacket and slide it off his shoulders. "It'll mend."

"You shouldn't even have been in there." There's too much he could say about it all. About how it hurts him to put people he cares for in danger. About how he's lost so many people he's not even sure how he'll handle the next one. Cos there will be a next one, he knows that. There will always be a next one, until the day he can't handle it anymore and walks away from it all. Only he knows he won't. Because as long as he's here, fighting the fight, he may save a few lives.

"Neither should you." Of course, Ianto figured it out. That being immortal sometimes has its downsides, and Garg'kats are one of them. "Or John, for that matter." He starts undoing Ianto's shirt, fingers brushing against skin, as if wanting to reassure himself that Ianto is still here, still alive, still warm and in one piece. "But we were. And we made it." Ianto's voice shakes just a little in that way that tells Jack he's got Ianto's full attention. "That's what we do." Hands pull at his shirt, untucking it, and slide up his back. "That's the job I chose." Barely a whisper in his ear.

He stills for a second. Maybe one day he'll get himself to ask Ianto whether he ever really made a choice, or was simply caught in a sequence of events that ended up with him in Torchwood Three for reasons that have little to do with duty. Just like himself.

But tonight, somehow, it doesn't matter. All that matters is Ianto's hands undoing his shirt and tossing it aside, the frantic pull at belt buckles and buttons and flies, nails raking down his back, skin on skin and want and need and blood pumping. The feeling of being alive.

"Bed?" Teeth on his collarbone, a hand sneaking into his trousers, and that look in Ianto's eyes that always brings good things. He's struggling for breath in the best possible way.

"John's taken mine." He can't help but smile. There's something in Ianto's voice that promises so much, just like every time they manage some time together. "And he needs it. I know what you asked him to do today." Ianto looks at him, defiant and understanding at once. It takes a moment for his brain to make sense of it, and when he does, he curses. Ianto was not supposed to know.

"I..." What can he say? Each and every of his deaths take a toll on Ianto. He's seen it on his face every time he comes back. He's seen the conflict in Ianto the very few times he's been so badly hurt that death was a much easier option than healing, the reluctance with which Ianto handed him his Webley and stood aside... He leans his forehead on Ianto, noses rubbing. "I'm here now." Ianto nods.

"So, what was that about a bed?" He snorts. Trust Ianto to take everything in his stride, be it total apocalypse, their favourite takeaway being closed, or him dying. He pulls away and drags Ianto onto his feet and into his arms.

"Sure you don't want to share with John? He's got the big bed..." Ianto snorts. Blushes. Eventually puts himself together again and stares at him, half smiling, half pouting, in a way that reminds him of John.

"He's injured. He needs to catch some sleep." A hand on the back of his neck as Ianto pulls him in for a kiss, all bite and tongue as he pushes him against the wall. He really should have shown Ianto all the interesting possibilities walls can have much earlier than he did. "I'm sure you'll be much more fun tonight." They both laugh. Well, if Ianto wants fun...


	14. Thirteenth Move

_**Thirteenth Move**_

John can't really believe it is actually happening until Ianto pushes him against the wall and he bangs his head on it; he's not averse to a bit of rough and tumble as a preamble to sex, but he's learnt the hard way that heads are delicate things, and he tries, at least in his fantasies, not to hit his with hard objects. He's barely reached the conclusion that this must, then, be reality, when Ianto kisses him like there is no tomorrow, pushing his beloved jacket – the one he only got back from mending and dry-cleaning a couple of days ago – off his shoulders.

"Careful with that," he mutters, breaking the kiss and running his hands over Ianto's chest. "I can't exactly get a replacement in the shop down the road." Ianto doesn't reply, instead glares at him, but he can tell Ianto knows he's joking. He just takes in the sight: no suit jacket, rolled up sleeves, open collar. No tie to be seen, which is a pity: he loves Ianto's ties and the thousand and one uses of those quaint little things. Hair already tousled from where he has run his fingers through it; and his face... oh, that expression of lust and want and need and determination. Looks like all the saving the world heroics finally paid out. Not that his only reason for helping was to get into Ianto's pants... There's also Jack's pants to consider.

"If you care more about your clothing than about other things..." Ianto's sarcasm is always a good sign, although he knows, as he grabs his arm before he can pull away, that it is still a fine line he treads with Ianto, even after the week Ianto has spent tending to his wounds. "Thought so." There's been a lot of dancing around, of innuendo and false starts in the past few days, and he's not about to blow what looks like a good chance of – finally – getting what he wants.

His hands shake as he tries to undo the burgundy shirt. Ianto keeps his eyes on him, taking in every detail. He throws the shirt away, revealing the body it has been hiding. The colour suits Ianto, but he prefers him naked. Naked and in his bed, the huge one he had delivered and charged to Torchwood accounts after Jack agreed to let him stay – for the time being – and claim one of the rooms in the lower levels as his living quarters. Nothing wrong with small beds, except that he likes to roll around. Particularly when accompanied. Although rolling is still out of the question today.

He blinks in surprise when he feels teeth trailing down his collarbone from his shoulder, on naked skin. When did he lose his t-shirt? Ianto bites _just there_, fingers trailing along the still tender scar on his shoulder, and he moans; he can imagine the smirk, the same one Ianto wears any time he manages to outsmart the mighty Captain Hart.

"Jack taught you well." His voice is low and calm, his body is anything but. Ianto kicks off his shoes, and he silently curses his boots; they've never been particularly practical for a quick fuck, but he is too fond of them to ditch them. He's reaching for his gun belt – no, he won't stop wearing that thing while in the safety of the Hub, thanks very much, it frames his ass very nicely – and throwing it aside, hoping he'll manage the boots later, when Ianto drops to his knees in front of him. "Oh Goddesses." He tilts his head back, banging it on the wall again, as Ianto rests his forehead on his hip, just where the gun belts were a minute ago, and starts undoing his boots. Painfully slow. Tantalizingly close, yet too far. It still feels much better now, without poison in his system. Hot breath hitting his skin through the jeans. Buckles. Laces. Roughly pulling them off, leather sliding over denim and bare skin. He swallows. Oh, this is so going to be worth the wait.

Ianto stands up again and comes in for another kiss, more bite this time, demanding, possessive, seeking control; John has never been able to resist a good kisser. He pushes Ianto back, towards the bed, but he stands his ground and has him against the wall before he knows it, hands seemingly everywhere but where he wants them. Teasing. He grins. When they settle on his waist, the brush of fingers against his skin a delicious contrast to the teeth marking his neck, and draws needy noises from him. He bucks his hips, tries to pull Ianto closer, desperate for contact, but Ianto is firmly holding him against the wall, keeping him an inch away from what he wants.

"I like it when you are rough." Barely a whisper, because he can't find air for more. The way Ianto is playing with him is driving him mad, although this makes for a change after the way Eye Candy has been slithering out of his arms every time he managed to get his hands on him for the past few days. He makes another attempt at taking Ianto towards the bed, he gets a forearm pressing on his throat as a reward. Not even close to cutting his air, but the intention is there. He shivers. It wouldn't surprise him if Ianto actually _knew_ just how much he enjoys that, even if Jack hasn't given him the details. Always perceptive, always noticing the smallest of reactions, and using it to his advantage. The bastard. "You came down here, Eye Candy. You came looking for _me_." A knee slips between his legs and hits just the right spot; a hand undoes the first button of his jeans.

"And?" Ianto's breath on his cheek makes him shudder. His whole body is on fire and he just loves the feeling of Ianto pressed against him, a hand sneaking between them to undo his trousers. He brings his own hands up to Ianto's back, and the pressure on his throat increases just a bit. He gives him his best grin and lets his hands fall to his sides again.

"And I like the way you play." It's been a long time since anyone managed to have him so hot, so wanting, so desperate for a taste that he'd be ready to surrender. Not without a fight, of course, where would the fun be in that? He knows, right now, that he will eventually yield completely, but there is no need to tell Ianto just yet. Jack definitely knows how to pick them; he'll have to thank him for that later, in his own way. Ianto kisses him fiercely and finishes undoing his trousers, pushing them down until they slide down his legs and pool at his ankles. With as much dignity as he can, he steps out of them and kicks them aside.

He stands, completely naked, between a very hot Ianto and a very cold wall, and brings his hands up once again, one palming Ianto's erection through his trousers, the other one grabbing his ass. Ianto bites his bottom lip and lets out a strangled cry. The sound rips through his body, making him want _more_ and want it _now_. He undoes Ianto's trousers and lets them fall, and lets out a frustrated growl. Why is this century so obsessed with underwear? It only gets in the way as he presses his body to Ianto.

It is his turn to fall on his knees and free Ianto of the last of his clothing. He can't help but lick his lips as he looks up at the dishevelled man above him, so different from his usual near-perfect persona. No suit, no tie, no pretences. Just Ianto. As he places a kiss and a bite on his hip, he wonders what Ianto's plan is. Because he has a plan, that is for certain. He has one even to go out shopping, he wouldn't be _here_ without one. He raises his eyebrows for a moment, then takes Ianto's cock in his mouth without hesitation. He's never been one for plans. Not for sticking to them, anyway.

Above him, Ianto reaches for the wall for purchase and lets out a stream of curses in what sounds like Welsh. His eyes are open and focused on John, and that only encourages him to do his worst, kissing, licking, nibbling, teasing, all over and everywhere at the same time. Ianto lifts a foot and traces John's inner thigh, somehow managing to keep his balance despite John's best attempts to fry his brain. When the foot reaches his balls and squeezes upwards, John has no doubt left about it: Ianto has a kinky streak, hidden under all those layers of clothing.

And he just can't let the challenge of bringing it out pass. A flick of the tongue, _just so_, and Ianto is gasping for air. Nails scratching the back of Ianto's thighs as he draws him in as deep as he can, and the kid nearly loses his footing. Fingers card in his hair and hold him in place as Ianto starts moving, fucking his mouth, carefully at first, then a bit rougher, and a sheer wave of pleasure and want runs through him. He'd probably be making the most interesting little noises and panting his way to what promises to be an amazing fuck, if he could. When the hand on his hair lets go, he pulls away, relishing the taste in his mouth. He wants more, but he loves the teasing.

A finger hooks under his chin and pulls him up for a searing kiss, tongues battling. At the first feeling of bodies pressed flush together, he bites into Ianto's lips to stop himself from making a sound. Ianto buries his head in the crook of his neck, puffs of hot breath hitting already overheated skin. He rakes nails up and down Ianto's back, barely hard enough for Ianto to notice them, but still enough to make him shiver.

"Jack warned me you were... challenging." The fact that Jack has discussed him with Ianto comes as a revelation; not so much that Jack may have talked about past conquests, but that Ianto may actually have wanted to know. How much has Jack told him? Knowing Jack, not much; His Immortalness has always enjoyed the pleasures of discovering a new lover, learning what works for them, finding new common ground and expanding horizons – he wouldn't give Ianto the full dossier. Where would the fun be in that?

"Oh, is Poster Boy going to join us? I'd love to put up a show for him." He presses his hips to Ianto's, just to mark the point. Ianto bites his neck, same spot, and then his earlobe. Hard. He shudders.

"He's... busy. Although he may be watching us." Ianto smiles coyly and seems to enjoy the quizzical look on John's face. "CCTV. He loves CCTV." Of course. Surely recording – in high quality – for future enjoyment. Not that he can blame him... he'd do the same. Ianto's hand run down his chest to the wound on his side and trace the outline of the bandage still covering. "Is it...?" He pulls a face and aims for an annoyed look, but he's miles off the mark. Truth to be told, he loves the way Ianto can be rough and caring at the same time.

"I'm not going to break while we fuck, if that's what you are worried about." He drags Ianto closer, fingers digging into flesh, hard enough to bruise, making Eye Candy hiss in that oh so sexy way. "I've had worse." Without warning, Ianto pulls away and takes a few steps towards the bed, eyes all invitation to follow him – and the kid definitely knows how to give bedroom eyes – until he notices the latest change in décor.

"Mirrors?" He really needs to find a word for that snort-giggle-disbelief-straight-face thing Ianto does so well. "This is what you meant when you said you needed mirrors?" He nods. "You are incorrigible." He mock-bows as he walks towards Ianto, wrapping his arms around his waist and standing on tip toe so he can rest his chin on his shoulder.

"Been called that before." Many times. He lets his hands roam over Ianto's body, eyes firmly on his through the mirror, drinking in every reaction. The way his eyes flutter when he scratches his sides, barely enough to leave red marks behind that fade before he takes his hands away. The way he shivers head to toe and tilts his head back when he runs a finger down his throat, from his chin to the dip just below his Adam's apple. "You can't say they don't offer interesting... possibilities." Ianto swallows and closes his eyes. "No. Don't. You'll miss the best part." He moves away from Ianto, patting that oh so fuckable ass as he goes, and drops on the bed, still moving a bit more carefully than he'd like. Ianto follows, pulling him in for a kiss as they get tangled on each other.

"And what would that be?" His whole body tingles and twitches and simply _wants_. This, this is the best part of life. Bodies close together, and heat, and sweat and the wonderful feeling of anticipation that is always there. He can't remember the last time it took him so long to drag somebody into this bed – Eye Candy may just have established a new record – although coherent thought is getting more and more difficult by the minute as Ianto taunts him.

"The one where you stop teasing and start fucking." Ianto's fingers curl around his cock and he's about to lose it. "Unless you want me to..." He never gets to finish his offer – Ianto is on him again, kissing and nibbling and biting just enough to make him want more, holding him down against the mattress, and he's loving every second of it. He pays back in kind, struggling to move, running his hands over every inch of skin he can find, drawing needy noises that seem incoherently appropriate coming from Ianto now that he's lost the suit of armour. He tries to sneak out from under Ianto, but he's having none of it. Oh, the wonders of a lover that can handle him!

"On your knees." Shivers down his spine. Much as he likes being in charge, nothing compares to the thrill of a voice that seems hard-wired to make him react first and think later. So he does as he is told. Ianto spins him around until he's facing the mirror, a smug smile on his face. Of course. Ianto will try anything once. Or maybe twice for good measure. A trail of kisses down his right shoulder, tracing the scar. A hand on his stomach, holding him in place, supporting his weight as he leans forwards just a bit, and he can't help but put his own over it, tracing the outline of long, tormenting fingers. A hot body behind him, demanding, insistent, teasing. Ianto reaches under his pillow and brings out the lube. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask. Nothing escapes Ianto, apparently.

Hot breath on his neck. Scrape of teeth on skin. A slippery hand sneaking between him and Ianto. Fingers sliding inside him and he moans and writhes and presses back, a hand reaching behind him trying to bring Ianto closer. A calming murmur on his ears, words his mind does not register because all that matters is skin and contact and heat. The burning mixture of pleasure and pain when Ianto buries himself inside him, hitting just the right way to make him moan. He stares at Ianto on the mirror, watching the moment play on his face as they move together, slowly, unhurried, every little caress and touch and slide and bite competing to fry his brain. There is something endearing in the contrast between way Ianto holds him close, as if afraid he's going to pull his stitches if he moves too much, and the teeth on the back of his neck, just below the hairline, possessive and rough. Who cares about contradictions when it all feels so damn good.

"Should have done this before I got hurt." Ianto smiles over his shoulder and stops, fingers treading lightly down his chest, down his stomach, curling around his cock, and he's pretty sure he's never sounded so desperately needy before. "Wouldn't have had to... hold back." Ianto is painfully still, as if waiting for him to move. Oh, that wonderful mind is so full of surprises. He moves forward into Ianto's hand, slowly, then back, until Ianto is fully inside him again. Oh, the tease! He's so going to take revenge for this. Soon.

"You'll heal." A bite on his ear, more down his neck, and he's sure there will be marks in the morning. "This... is just a teaser." He can't help but snort. Or at least start snorting before the world becomes a blur. The grip on his middle tightens and drags him closer to Ianto, who grinds his hips _just so_ as his other hand _squeezes_ just the right way. And when he thinks he can't take any more, teeth settle on his good shoulder, biting deep, and he comes, not entirely sure how he manages not to fall flat on his stomach, other than the strong arms around him. He leans back. Goes with it. Enjoys the aftershocks as Ianto thrusts a few more times. He keeps his eyes on the mirror – nothing better in a first encounter than to watch sheer pleasure play in his lover's face for the first time.

Ianto's head falls heavy on his shoulder. Ragged breaths echo in the still half empty room. Slowly, carefully, nothing like his usual rolling around, they fall down on the bed, Ianto's arms still wrapped around him. He twists his head in search for a kiss, sloppy and messy and more intention than actual touch but still electric.

"Do you think Jack enjoyed the show?" A playful, soft whisper in his ear, just when he thought the day couldn't get any better.

"Well, if he didn't, we can always give him a second pass."

_**Countermeasure**_

The mug of coffee is empty when Jack reaches for it. That should be his cue to put aside the paperwork, call it a day, and find Ianto, drag him away from whatever Really Important Stuff he's doing and have some time together. Maybe order some takeaway, and just try not to talk about work too much. Or simply leave a trail of discarded clothes on their way to bed – or any other suitable place – while they try to reassure each other that, despite the latest alien invasion or end-of-the-world threat, they are still alive.

Just as he's about to leave his office, the terminal behind his desk beeps. Not at all unusual. But at this time of the day, it is rarely a good thing. With a sigh, he walks back to it, types his password, and checks his email, dreading yet another high-in-the-food-chain idiot demanding explanations about who knows what supposed Torchwood fuck-up – there have been a few near-misses recently. Instead, he finds a message from Ianto. Short, and to the point: 'Camera 397'. He raises his eyebrows, a slight suspicion of what he may find when he checks the CCTV forming in his mind.

When the image appears on screen, he can't help the smile, the nervous swallowing, and the falling more than sitting on his chair. What used to be an old, disused storage room has been restored to its former grandeur – there's no other word to use when it comes to John and decorating – as guests quarters. Complete with plush rugs, desk in the corner – as if John ever used those things to do any work – and a huge bed in a corner covered by mirrors. Oh dear. John's nesting in, and planning to stay.

Yet the most interesting thing on the feed is currently on the other end of the room, where Ianto – in shirtsleeves, no tie, no waistcoat – is holding John against the wall and taking that pretentious jacket off him. He knows that look Ianto is wearing, the one that means he's in charge and all games tonight will be by his book or won't be at all. John's in for a surprise, or possibly a treat; he's probably figured Ianto is not as tame and quiet as the world in general seems to believe. He can't wait to see how Ianto deals with John's gun belt and boots – they look great on him, but they always used to get in the way.

Eyes glued to the screen, he watches the careful way Ianto and John dance around each other with small gestures. The surprise in John's face when Ianto bites his shoulder overlaps with his own memories of just how good those teeth feel on his skin, of the nearly delicate way in which Ianto uses them. Unable to move from his seat, he taps a couple of buttons on his wriststrap; noises that can only translate as want, need, now, fill the room. He watches Ianto torture John as he takes off his boots, painstakingly slow, and can nearly _hear_ the possibilities flying through John's mind.

Seeing his lover on his knees in front of his ex-about-to-become-current shouldn't be this hot. Shouldn't turn him on. But it does. He brings a hand to his belt, wondering whether to sit back and watch the rest of the show or make his way downstairs and join the party. The computer blips again. It takes him a moment to notice it, lost as he is in the way John and Ianto are tearing at each other's clothes. He taps on his wriststrap. Another email from Ianto. Again, short: 'Don't move. Watch. Enjoy.' He pulls a face; Ianto must have arranged for the messages to be sent at intervals before he went looking for John. Oh, that wicked mind.

He forces his hands back to the armrests, fingers gripping the wood so tightly his knuckles are probably white. Something tells him Ianto's games extend to him tonight, even if right now he's busy pushing John against the wall, kissing him like there's no tomorrow and always keeping the rogue tantalizingly close yet not close enough to what he wants. He's got to admit, from this end of it, it is a neat trick. From the other, when Ianto plays it on him, it's deliciously frustrating.

"I like it when you are rough." John's voice is surprisingly steady, but he knows him well enough to know Ianto is getting to him. When John makes yet another move to push Ianto towards the bed, he can't help but snort, even before Ianto reacts and pushes him against the wall again, arm on his throat. He swallows. After that, John's never going to believe he didn't tell Ianto all the little – and not so little – secrets he discovered during their time together. Unless he's already figured out that reading people is one of Ianto's strengths. After that, he's not even sure how he manages to keep his hands on the chair. "You came down here, Eye Candy. You came looking for _me_."

That's one thing he's got to give John, he's always been a fair hunter. Insistent. Persistent. Patient – well, sort of. But in the end, his prey always goes to him willingly – he won't have it any other way. He smiles, wondering if John's got any clue; if there is something Ianto isn't, is an easy prey. Even once he's decided to _allow_ himself to be captured, there are always surprises in store.

"And?" Oh, Ianto. That soft voice that always lures him into a false sense of security, of familiarity, until Ianto completely flips the situation on him. He watches John trying to get things his way again. He watches Ianto gently remind him who is in charge, and he's pretty sure his jaw hits the floor when John just goes with it and stops fighting. He shudders. John is definitely _not_ an easy one to control, not even when he _wants_ to be controlled. Ianto seems to be getting him to behave without even trying. Panting, his hand goes back to his belt. There's no way in Hell he can just sit here and watch without doing something. _Anything._

He's barely undone his fly when the computer beeps again – yet another email from Ianto: 'I said watch. Don't move, don't touch, don't think. Watch'. He rolls his eyes. Is he really so predictable? He's always taken pride in being a bit of a wildcard, particularly when it comes to sex, but Ianto seems to know him better than the back of his own hand. With a growl, he leans back on the chair, putting his hands behind the backrest, fingers entwined. If there is one thing he's learnt about Ianto's games is that playing along is always worth it.

"And I like the way you play." Well, that is something he's got to agree with John on. On screen, John steps out of his jeans and kicks them away, only to be pressed against the wall by a still halfway-dressed Ianto. He closes his eyes for a moment, memories of the many times he's been in that position flooding in. When he opens them again, John is on his knees in front of a very naked Ianto, and he's pretty sure he moans and curses and nearly forgets to take a breath as the scene unfolds in front of him. John sucking Ianto, who dissolves into unbelievably needy noises. Ianto leaning on the wall, a hand on John's hair, and shivers run down his spine as he remembers just how good it feels when Ianto, always so controlled and measured Ianto, lets go like that and just thrusts and moves and takes what he wants. Not that he ever does it without a certain gentleness, but that only adds to the thrill.

Ianto pulls John to his feet, and he barely manages a breath before the biting and kissing and scratching and teasing resumes. He is panting. He'd forgotten how hot watching, just watching, could be. He digs his nails into his own hands to hold them together behind him, knowing full well if he lets go, there's only one place they are going to end, and that'd ruin Ianto's game, whatever it is.

"Jack warned me you were... challenging." Not his exact words, but close enough. And, for the record, he didn't tell Ianto anything he didn't already know. Even though John will definitely not believe that after the way Ianto is pressing all his buttons in a way that suggests expert inside knowledge.

"Oh, is Poster Boy going to join us? I'd love to put up a show for him." He nearly laughs. John's always been up for a show – he should remind him of that night when... well, maybe not – but something tells him he's got no idea just how close he is to the truth.

"He's... busy. Although he may be watching us." Oh, devious Ianto. "CCTV. He loves CCTV." He's playing both of them as if they were fine-tuned instruments, and, judging by how tight his pants feel, and how damn needy John's voice sounds, he's winning all around. "Is it...?" Ianto's expression changes completely as he traces the outline of the bandage still covering the wound on John's side, the one that has kept him in bed – alone – for the best part of the last week. John does that snort-smile-pull-a-tantrum-pout face he always has when someone fusses over him, the one he uses when he doesn't want the world to know that, deep inside, he enjoys being taken care of.

"I'm not going to break while we fuck, if that's what you are worried about." And he can attest to that. There were times when the only reason a day – or half day, on some planets, since neither of them was ever known for the patience – together didn't end up in the most amazing sex sessions was because one of them was nearly dead. "I've had worse." They both have.

When Ianto pulls away from John, all bedroom eyes and come-and-get-me, he's not entirely sure whether he's looking at John, or straight at the camera. Not that it matters. He can nearly feel the heat crackling between them, and he's not even in the same room. He bites his lip. Closes his eyes for a second. Digs his nails even deeper into his own hands. Oh, Ianto and his mind games. How he loves them. Opens his eyes again when Ianto's laughter fills the room. Looks like someone just noticed the mirrors around John's bed.

"Mirrors? This is what you meant when you said you needed mirrors?" Probably not. Most likely John was thinking of black mirror curtains, which are really handy to hang around a four-poster bed and reflect even in the dark, but, knowing John, he'll make do with what is available until he gets a chance to get what he wants. "You are incorrigible."

"Been called that before." He watches John walk to Ianto, wrap his arms around him and starts showing him just how useful mirrors can be. And he can't help but praise the CCTV cameras in the Hub and their alien/future enhancements, giving him the best view of both the real John and Ianto and their reflections. He swallows. Pants. Gasps for breath. All at once. Blood pounding inside him. Pants definitely too tight for comfort. Watches Ianto lean onto John, moan and writhe with every touch. "You can't say they don't offer interesting... possibilities." He watches Ianto close his eyes, as if trying to keep himself in check. "No." Not a command – John wouldn't be so foolish as to try and turn the tables on Ianto _now_. "Don't." Ianto opens his eyes again, and oh, what Jack would give to be down there and join them... "You'll miss the best part."

When John moves away and lies down on the bed, the pure image of lust and invitation, he nearly stands up and gives in to the urge to find them and have some fun of his own. Another really annoying blip on the computer, and another message. He struggles to reach his wriststrap without bringing his hands in front of him. 'Stay where you are. You can join us next time." This time he curses. When did Ianto become a mind reader?

"And what would that be?" He watches as Ianto towers over John, holding him down with that mixture of gentle care and rough demand that makes his skin prickle with want and need and now and please something even if it is not directed at him. He watches the kisses, the roaming hands, every little detail of it.

"The one where you stop teasing and start fucking." Oh, Ianto's poker face again as he grabs John's cock and teases him, as if they had all the time in the world. The needy noises John is drawing from Ianto shoot straight through his body. The way Ianto keeps John in check without even having to make an effort is a much bigger turn-on than it should – and the only pang of jealousy has more to do with how he never really could control John like that than with the way those two are looking at each other as if there were nobody else on the planet.

"On your knees." He shivers, head to toe. Ianto taking charge is always followed by mind-blowing, hot, satisfying sex. The sight of John Hart, rogue even in his days in the Agency, taking orders is nearly too much to bear. He's nearly compelled to obey himself.

Hot breath on his neck. A gentle touch on his shoulder, and he must be going mad because there's nobody in the room with him... He turns his head around just a bit and nearly jumps. Ianto is standing behind him, fully dressed but still dishevelled, a smug smile on his face. Oh, the bastard. CCTV _archive footage_ instead of live feed. He should have...

"I said, on your knees." Ianto's voice on his ear, hot and low and inviting and he can't help but slide off his chair onto his knees. "Eyes on the screen." Behind him, the chair is pulled away, and replaced by Ianto's warm presence. "Hands where they are." He nods. "You love this, don't you?" He nods again. In front of him, Ianto is holding John almost tenderly as they fuck, slowly and noisily, looking at each other through the mirror. Behind him, Ianto is pressing against him, cock fitting perfectly on his hands. "Say it."

"Yes." He can barely manage a whisper.

"Say it." Demanding, yet offering so much. Understanding, if sometimes a bit lost. There are many things that mark Ianto as a creature out of his time, and this, the way he lives life and sex and – dare he say it – love is perhaps the most obvious of all.

"I love watching you." Hands run up and down his arms.

"Watching me doing what?" A bite on his neck. He curls his hands around Ianto's cock, making him moan.

"I love watching you fuck John." A teasing tongue on his earlobe. "Or him fuck you." Needy noises, and he can't tell whether they are his, or John's, or from the Ianto in the room, or the one on the screen. His mind is not entirely working at the moment. "I love that look on your face... pleasure and life and..." Words are definitely not easy right now. He closes his eyes, not sure how much more he can take.

"Eyes on the screen." Ianto pulls away just a bit, takes his hands and brings them in front of him, settling them on his chest, wrapping his arms around him, lacing fingers. He opens his eyes again, watches on-screen-Ianto slowly move behind John. Feels Ianto's hands drag his own down his chest, down his belly, down to the waistband of his way too tight pants. "Go ahead." He swallows. "Let me watch you."

And that's all he needs. He pulls his cock out of his underwear, curling a hand around it. Loses track of Ianto's voice, grounds on the warm body holding him as he strokes himself. A voice inside him shouts that this is way too good to be truth, but he knows Ianto has a tendency to surpass even the wildest Jack Harkness' fantasies sometimes. Ianto leaves a trail of kisses on his neck, moving the collar of his shirt out of his way but refusing to undress him even the slightest.

"I was watching you, you know?" Hot breath on his neck. "Your reaction." In his mind, it makes some kind of strange sense. "Wondering how long you could keep your hands still." Arms around him, holding him down. "How long until you couldn't resist it anymore." A bite on his neck, just below his ear, and he comes, shaking and making noises he doesn't recognize as his – although maybe they aren't. Ianto just holds him, whispering nonsense in his ear as he tries to remember how to breathe. "Did you enjoy the show?" He nods. Definitely not a moment for words.

"Do you think I could... join in... for the next one?" It takes a lot of effort to string a sentence together. Ianto snorts and leaves a soft kiss on his head. Sounds like a yes to him.


	15. Fourteenth Move

_**Fourteenth move**_

He's smiling like the cat that got the cream when he walks into the main area of the Hub. And well, who can blame him? He _did_ get the cream. He still has the bruises to prove it, should anybody want to know. Although, somehow, he can't quite picture PC Cooper enquiring after his evening – even nine days after he moved in to the Palace under the Pavement, she still moves around him as if he should be locked in the Vaults. And both Jack and Ianto know first hand what went down.

He's about to shout some morning witticism or another when he notices the look on Jack's face as he stands behind Gwen and stares at the screen over her shoulder. Oh, the life at Torchwood Three seems to be too much work and too little play. No wonder everybody is so cranky sometimes, with all the saving the world. And the _paperwork_. He's starting to believe Ianto wasn't kidding about the amount of forms he'd have to fill in if one John Hart, non-Torchwood Officer, died while helping out.

"I'm telling you, Jack, something is going on with the Weevils." He rolls his eyes. Something is always going on in Cardiff. Whether it is the Weevils, the seagulls or the bloody people, there is always _something_ going on. Who in their right mind would build a city on top of a spatio-temporal Rift that keeps spitting out all the flotsam and jetsam of the Universe is beyond him. But then again, Humanity has always been known more for their ingenuity than for their foresight. Nothing new there.

"I trust you slept well." He nearly jumps out of his skin when Ianto appears at his side, passes him a mug of fresh coffee – fingers lingering just enough to make him want to head back to his room, Eye Candy in tow – and takes a sip of his own, stashing his now empty hand in his pocket. Ianto looks the perfect image of propriety: three piece suit, perfectly pressed, polished shoes, tie, not a strand of hair out of place. Only the way his lips curl in the beginning of a smile breaks the spell.

"I'm not saying there isn't, Gwen." Oh, dear. Not even eight in the morning – when did he start getting up this early in the day? – and Jack already seems to be at the end of his tether. "But right now we have bigger fish to fry." He pats her shoulder, probably a peace offering, and takes a step away. Gwen hits the keys furiously.

"I did." As usual, Ianto's coffee is just what he needs to start the day: bitter, bold, and strong. "Once I found the key to the cuffs." To his credit, Ianto doesn't even flinch. What does it take to take him by surprise? "You could have taken them off before you left, you know?"

"But, Jack, look at this." Ah, here we go again. "They've been appearing in areas we've never seen them before." Ianto snorts. He rolls his eyes. Jack walks back to her station, and scans the screen again. "Something must be driving them away from their usual places."

"Where would the fun be in that?" A hand on his shoulder, and the snarky comment he was planning seems to dissolve into thin air. "I think we'd better see what's going on before it escalates." With a sigh, Ianto walks up to Gwen's station. He follows, enjoying the view. Ianto must get his suits made to measure – nothing else explains how well they fit. "What have you found?"

Gwen launches into her explanation again. Weevils. Hunting away from home. No Rift activity in their usual pads. He can't help but notice Jack is frowning. Something is still not right, and it seems he's not the only one that feels it.

"Did you get anywhere with the difference in readings around the last pod?" Jack takes a couple of steps towards him; he's got that look about him, of someone chased by a worry he can't quite name. He shakes his head. He's been working on it ever since his head cleared up from the drugs the army doctor gave him for the wound, and he's still as baffled as he was when it happened. "How can something be here and now and yet appear not to be?" He shrugs.

"Whatever it is, it isn't good." He raises an eyebrow, thumbs tucked in his gun belt. "Gwen's right, something is going on. We just don't seem to find exactly..." Of course! The 'click' in his head is so loud it must have been heard a mile away. "Gwen." He leans on the back of her chair, one hand on her shoulder, and ignores the pointed look she gives him. "Have you checked for time distortions? Not the Rift, something like..."

"A Vortex Manipulator." Jack jumps in. "Or the folding signature of the Garg'kat pods." She looks from one to the other, realization slowly dawning on her as well. Carefully, she types a few commands in. The map on the screen changes. To his right, Ianto curses. He exchanges a worried look with Jack as he becomes all-too-aware of the tingling on his skin – and it is so not the good kind. They both pull a face. Ianto grimaces, as if he knew what is coming.

"Oh God." At the heart of every area where Weevils have been known to nest, there is a fading time signature. Too small for a pod, but still big enough for some Very Nasty Thing to have come through. He flips open his Vortex Manipulator, taps a few buttons, and nearly drops his coffee. It matches exactly the distortion created by the pods.

"I guess PC Cooper was right." Oh, there we go again, doom and gloom faces. "Something's been messing with the Weevils." Behind him, Ianto is already picking Jack's coat and holster from the hanger by the door to his office, even before Jack moves towards him.

"And we are going to find out exactly what." In a well practised movement, Jack slips into his coat and grabs his Webley. Gwen kicks her chair back and takes her gun from the top drawer. Ianto grabs his own coat and weapon. He just stands there, watching the flurry of activity around him, until Jack stares at him with that 'you are missing the point' look. "Come on, grab your gear. You are coming. Gotta earn your keep."

He grins and spins around; as much as he's missed being out and about, he's not going anywhere without the rest of his weapons. He nearly bumps into Ianto coming up the steps, jacket draped over one arm, sword in the other hand. They both stop, staring at each other. Something stirs inside him. Letting others handle his weapons is not something he usually does, unless he's locked in a cell and has no say in the matter, or about to fall dead on the floor from the bite of an alien that shouldn't even be here and now.

But Ianto just holds his gaze, unapologetic, as if he knew perfectly well he's probably overstepped the mark, but has good reasons for it, and he realizes just how deep his trust in Ianto runs. So he nods, and makes to grab the sword as he pushes away all the thoughts he'll have to sort through later on. Ianto shakes his head as he walks up to him. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Gwen already running out the door towards the SUV. Jack is still by the desks, taking in the scene.

He turns around, his back to Ianto, eyes fixed on Jack. His Immortalness is not the only one who's lived though eras of history and knows the drill. Behind him, Ianto slides the sword into its place on his belt, pulling at it slightly to check the leather will hold. The half smile on Jack's lips brings him back to the night before, to reminding Jack of the wonders of sharing a lover, and showing them to Ianto. He brings his arms back and finds the sleeves of his jacket already waiting for him. The weight falls on his shoulders, familiar as he shrugs to make sure all his weapons are where they should be. Ianto tugs at the collar, a finger barely ghosting on his throat, then pats his back.

"Now." Ianto heads for the door, and he follows. "Let's see what all the fuss is about."

* * *

Cardiff in the early hours of the morning is quite a quaint place as they drive through, quiet and bustling with activity at the same time. At least Ianto doesn't drive like a maniac – not when compared to Jack – so he can catch a glimpse of the outside world. It's interesting to see how every place in every time eventually boils down to the same basic human emotions. Love. Hate. Trust. Greed. Want. Need. So many centuries of evolution, and Humanity hasn't really changed that much.

"So, these readings..." He turns his head towards Gwen. She's got that condescending, reassuring smile on her face, the one he's seen her use when she's not entirely sure what the Hell is going on. "They are similar to both whatever brought the pods here last week and a Vortex Manipulator." He rolls his eyes – given the choice between Garg'kats and other Time Agents, he'll take the aliens any day. "But they don't match. Could it be something else?"

"Whatever it is, it is a time distortion." He flips open his wriststrap and taps into the computer, running the data through different filters and trying to figure out exactly what they may be facing. "And time distortions in an era where time travel has not yet been invented are never good." He gives her a poker look and the best of his smiles. "I thought you would have learnt that by now." She shoots him a death glare. He pretends not to notice. "Don't you have any CCTV around these areas?"

"Already checked." Of course Jack would have. "Nothing on the surface. They're probably underground." Why can't anything around Torchwood ever be simple? Hell, not even getting a shag around here comes easy.

"Oh, don't tell me we have to go down into the sewers." He keeps his eyes on Ianto through the mirror. Jack just snorts, probably remembering the many times both missions and cons took them to less-than-pleasant corners of the Universe. "I just had this dry-cleaned."

"Technically, _I_ just had that dry-cleaned." He pulls a face at Ianto through the rear-view mirror, and gets a smug smile in return. "So, try and keep it clean, will you?" Beside him, Gwen giggles. He lets out a sigh. If it weren't for the perks, this job wouldn't be worth it.

Which reminds him, he needs to discuss his salary with Jack. If he's staying, at least he should get paid for all this world-saving.

* * *

"Why do I always end up with _you_?" A few steps behind him, the echo of Gwen's footsteps stops. He spins around, one hand on the sword, the other one holding a torch. "Seriously, Sweet Cheeks, anyone would think you've got a crush on me..." The death glare she shoots him is nearly worth being stuck with her, underground, and walking directly to what used to be a Weevil nest and is now the point of origin of a bloody space-time distortion, all of that while Eye Candy and His Immortalness are probably finding a time to feel each other up a bit in the middle of the crisis. He shrugs. It's not like he won't get the dirty details later on.

"Keep walking, will you?" He's got to give it to PC Cooper, when she sets her mind on doing something, she gets it done. He smiles at her, his most innocent smile, but she doesn't buy it. He opens his Vortex Manipulator again, and keeps checking for the cause of the disturbance. Even at this close range, he still has no clear idea what could be causing it.

He stops on his tracks in the middle of the tunnel when everything around him tingles, as if time were being bent in ways that it shouldn't. Gwen bumps into him, and is about to launch into one of her usual very long, very pointless monologues when he spins around and gestures for her to be quiet. For once, she does as she's told. Slowly, they make their way further along, until they are nearly standing in the edge of the time distortion. When he looks ahead, his jaw drops to the floor.

"Oh shit." He turns around, and grabs Gwen's arm. "Out." She stares at him, as if expecting an explanation. Well, unfortunately, there is no time for that now. "Now."

_**Countermeasure**_

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jack turns around, coat tails floating behind him and nearly getting in the way. In the harsh light of the torch, Ianto blinks and keeps his eyes half-closed until he points the beam to the ground. "John and Gwen didn't exactly get on well the last time they worked together." He can't help but smile at Ianto's choice of words.

"I know." He keeps walking along the tunnel, trying to ignore the tingling on his skin. "They'll have to learn how to, if John's gonna stay." Ianto takes a deep breath and the rhythm of his steps falters, as if he had been caught by surprise. "Like I said, he's got to earn his keep."

He pulls a face. Trust John Hart to find his way into the Torchwood Team thanks to a couple of days of good work. John's always been good at that, finding out what people want and providing it, making himself essential and indispensable – it is one of the tricks of a good conman. Come to think about it, that seems to be the way Torchwood Three has been recruiting as of late – Ianto used exactly the same trick on him. Maybe it's time he lets somebody else in the team do the hiring.

"So." Back to business, apparently. "Any idea what these... time signatures may be?" He shakes his head. Nothing good, that's for certain – but then again, Ianto already knows that. He flips open his wriststrap, taps a few buttons, and takes a left turn in the intersection. Slowly, they keep moving, until they are too close for comfort to the edge of the time distortion, and the tingling has been replaced by an unbearable itch that screams 'get out of here' in a way that makes it really hard not to. Behind him, Ianto stops, a hand on the small of his back as he draws level with him. "What the...?" It takes him a second to react when he realizes what lies in front of him.

"Out." When Ianto looks at him as if he were about to object, he brings his hands to his shoulders and spins him around. "Now." Fortunately, Ianto has always been good at understanding when to act first and ask questions later.


	16. Fifteenth Move

_**Fifteenth Move**_

"What do you mean, time bubbles?" Eye Candy, hands stashed in his pockets, is looking from him to Jack to a very worried Gwen. There's a slight tremble in Ianto's voice that he's only heard when he is trying to process something that takes him a bit by surprise. Which isn't often. "I've never heard of them." He brings out a hand and starts counting on his fingers. "We've had time fractures, time shifts, time-travelling police boxes... well, at least one of those," he can't help but notice Jack wincing at this, "entities that exist in at least two points in time at once... But I don't recall time bubbles giving us trouble, not even being mentioned in the Torchwood Archives."

"And you shouldn't." Jack's frowning, and that is never a good sign. "They shouldn't even exist yet!" Jack looks at him, and he can sense another dose of 'let us all blame it on the rogue' coming along. "Why didn't we recognize these things? Your Vortex Manipulator should have..." He pulls a face. Yes, a lot of things in life should be different than they are. He should never have ended in this bloody backwater planet in a time where not even drinks are strong enough, but he's here. Jack should never have left the Time Agency – he was the best they ever had, and it just wasn't the same after him. But he did. No use beating themselves over the head about the 'should haves'. Hopefully Jack will learn that one, one day of the very long life he's got ahead of him.

"Hey, don't go blaming it on me." He can't help but lash out. He's tired of – mostly – everybody around here thinking it is always _his doing_ when something goes terribly wrong. Just because he's wrecked havoc once or twice doesn't mean he is going to take the blame for everything. "Has it occurred to you that this may have something to do with those Nasty Aliens we just had at the gates, they _did_ trick us before with time signatures?" Jack stares at him, defiant, back in full Captain Harkness, leader of Torchwood Three and saviour of planet Earth mode. How Ianto can deal with that, day in and day out, is beyond him. He holds Jack's gaze, waiting for him to make the first move.

"Nobody is blaming anybody." Oh, PC Cooper being the voice of reason and peace. She'd be a good Mediator, if she didn't get so attached to everybody involved in the cases she works. But, for once, he's almost glad she interrupts the Mexican stand-off. He's worked too bloody hard to get Jack and Ianto to his bed, he's not in the mood to blow it right now – or to end up back in the Vaults just because somebody _suspects_ he's involved in this. "Not just yet, anyway."

"Now, in simple terms for those of us that only recently learnt time travel is possible." Ianto raises an eyebrow, making it very clear he's not in a mood for nonsense. "What exactly is down there?" He tries to explain, but Jack jumps in, only adding confusion to the mix. "Ah, ah, ah. One at a time." They both shut up as if they were still primary school kids caught in the middle of some mischief or another. He gives Jack a look and hands him the floor.

"Time bubbles." Yes, Jack, already said that. Ianto rolls his eyes. "It's... similar to time shifts, in the sense that two times coexist in the same point of the timeline." To his right, Gwen's nervously pushing the same lock of hair away from her face again and again. Something must have happened to her involving time shifts. But what? "But, where a time shift is destructive and uncontrolled, a time bubble is designed to _allow_ two times to coexist."

"So, it is the equivalent of what, pinching two points of the timeline together and hoping that nobody will notice?" Ianto, always practical, is standing by the open back door of the SUV, hands on one of the keyboards, no doubt cross-referencing or trying to find a pattern of some sorts that links these things to recent events.

"Yes and no." He's pretty sure he just took the words out of Jack's lips. "Depending on how they are created, they can be simple windows to another time. Very handy for learning History, when you can just peek at the King's chambers in Versailles or eavesdrop on the secret meetings that set events in motion." Ianto raises his eyebrows, as if something had just clicked in his head.

"Please, don't tell me they can also be gateways." Arms crossed in front of her, PC Cooper is fidgeting with her phone in one hand. Of course, her other half. She'll be wanting to call him and ask him to stay safe, and out of trouble, while she saves the world.

"Well, yes, they can. Very handy for Time Agency missions." Jack gives him his best smile. He tries not to think about all the times they jumped into a complete and utter mess, blind, just because that is where and when some idiot had created the bubble to. He doesn't like the things. Never has. Not planning in starting to like them any time soon. He much prefers his Vortex Manipulator. If only because, where he can travel _to_ using it, he can also get the Hell _out of_, when he needs to. Of course. That's it.

"So, you are telling me something, or somebody, is trying to get here and now through those time distortions?" Bingo for the gentleman in the suit! Simply put, pretty much. In a bit more detail, it is even scarier than that. He pauses for a second, trying to find a way to explain this.

"More than that." John clears his throat, still pretty sure he doesn't want to be there, he's had more than enough world-saving for a whole lifetime or two. And why is he always the one explaining these things? "Anybody who can create gateway bubbles has other ways of travelling through time. There is only one reason to use them instead of proper time travel."

"And that would be...?" Patience, PC Cooper, patience. He looks at Jack. Jack just stares back. Why is it always him that has to drop the bad news?

"Travelling to a point in time where you couldn't get by any other means." Yes, kiddies, there are rules about where and when to you can travel to, and the Time Agency was supposed to be enforcing them. Still is, at some points of the timeline. Has done a bloody good job of fucking it up completely at others. "Certain events in History are fixed points in time, just like our beloved Captain here." Jack pulls a face; he's tempted to throw some snark his way but settles for just a smug smile. "And the Agency makes sure nobody messes with them."

"Time locks." He nods at Ianto. "There are some obscure references to them in the Archives." Eye Candy closes the door of the SUV and walks back towards them, shooting Jack a questioning look. "Should have known you knew something about them."

"He wouldn't have told you squat." When both of them turn to him, identical what-do-you-know glares on their faces, he can't help but snort. "Oh, come on, Eye Candy, you must know by now that there are things Jack will never talk about." He takes a couple of steps towards Jack, hands on his gun belt, defiant. "Once a Time Agent, always a Time Agent. You wouldn't take the risk of saying too much." He stands there for a moment, just waiting for Jack to take a step back. Only he knows it won't happen. So, eventually, he is the one to move away.

"So." He raises an eyebrow at Gwen as she starts the recap. "Something, or somebody, placed those bubbles here and now. In the weevil nests. Just around the time the Garg'kats appeared, mostly on the other side of town." Pretty much it. "Do we know whether they are windows or gateways?"

"Gateways." Jack puts his hands on his coat pockets and stares at him. "Explains the tingling." When Gwen shoots him an I-don't-want-to-know look, he just smiles at her. "Time tingles when it's being played with. Only not everybody can feel it." She shakes his head in disbelief.

"I've gone back ten days of Rift activity monitor. It picked up the distortions this morning. Nothing before that." Great. That can only mean one thing. "So... I'm guessing the Garg'kats were the distraction so these bubbles could be created?" He nods.

"Quite possibly." He catches himself pacing up and down. It takes a lot of self control to stop, turn around and stop thinking of getting out of here and now. He snorts. It's not like he's going to – not without Ianto and Jack. And he knows only too well those two will not leave. "But why Weevil nests? Everybody knows they are time sensitive, and would get out of the way as soon as the air started tingling."

"Can we find out where and when the other end of the bubble is?" Gwen's still playing with her phone, looking from Jack to John and back. "That may help us figure out what exactly is going on here."

"Would love to, but, with this equipment?" He shakes his head. "I could always nip out to the 37th century and bring back what we..." Jack's staring at him in a way that cannot be good. "Or not." He lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, come on, Jack, what good am I here if you don't use the advantages I can give you and your little team?"

"You know as well as I do just how fragile this century is." Oh, don't go all self-righteous about it now, Jack. "What happened to 'once a Time Agent, always a Time Agent'?" He pulls a face. Leaning on the bonnet of the SUV, Ianto raises an eyebrow in a way that can only be interpreted as 'Jack has a point'.

"I never said it applied to me." Even though it does most of the time, lately. He looks from Ianto to Jack to Gwen, then to his feet. By the Goddesses how he hates it when Jack makes him feel like he bends every rule and cheats on every step. He's just trying to keep his skin on. To help those he cares for. He's just doing his best to make sure Ianto lives a little longer than the Torchwood average life expectancy.

"So, what do we do? Call U.N.I.T, see if they have something that can help us? Maybe..." He shoots PC Cooper a poisoned look. He's about to give her a piece of his mind when Ianto places a hand on his shoulder.

"They are gone." The three of them turn towards Eye Candy, who's holding one of Tosh's scanners in his hands. "Just... disappeared."

"Let's go check it out." Without another word, Jack gestures to Ianto and the two of them walk away, heading for the disturbance they checked earlier.

"Come on, Vera." At least the sudden good news seem to have had an effect on Gwen. He grimaces. Some people will never learn to fear good luck.

_**Countermeasure**_

Nothing. Nothing but the usual stench of the sewers, Jack's bad mood and a lot of questions in his head. That's exactly what they find down in the tunnels when they make it to the place that had unnerved Jack so much earlier.

"It's gone." Jack seems surprised, as if, after the last week, he didn't trust their scanners anymore. Well, who can blame him, after their little excursion into an alien ship because the instruments said they couldn't shoot at it just yet, only to find out that the readings were wrong? "We're gonna need to refine Tosh's search. I don't want these things on my doorstep again without a warning." He raises his eyebrows. Well, he'd love to help with that, but there's a limit to how much of Tosh's coding he can understand, let alone work with and change. Something tells him this is not the best time to remind Jack about hiring.

"These things scare you." Still a few steps ahead, Jack stops for a moment, then nods. When he turns around, the shadows on his face are not only lack of light, but also the weight of the world.

"No. Not the bubbles. What can come across them." He moves closer, not sure he wants to hear what Jack may have to say about this, but knowing he's the only one Jack will talk to. "The 21st century _is_ a delicate time in the timeline. The last thing we need is something trying to mess it up even more than it is."

"I know. The 21st century is when everything changes, and all those hints you keep dropping." He learnt long ago that Jack has his secrets, his hidden sides that he'll never see, and that, the cryptic messages he's not entirely sure whether he should even attempt to figure out, are just one of them. "John is just trying to help." Jack raises an eyebrow, making it clear that is dangerous ground right now. "He may have a different idea of how to do it, but he's just trying to help." He watches the emotions play on Jack's face. Jack may have welcomed John back into his bed, but Captain Harkness will have a hard time accepting that the man who caused the death of two members of his team is now a part of it. And there's nothing he can do to make it easier for him, other than defuse moments like this.

"He needs to be reminded of the rules." Barely a whisper, still full of contradictions, before Jack starts walking back to the surface. He lets out a sigh and follows him, holstering his gun as he goes. Yes, of course. Because Torchwood Three have always been known for doing everything by the book.

"He's put his life on the line. Just as we all have." Jack nods, and there's just a hint of a tired smile on him when he looks over his shoulder. He smiles back, and Jack shakes his head, as if giving up.

"You two will be the death of me." Not the words he would have chosen, but he gets the message. "Do you side with him 'cos he's got better cheekbones?" He snorts. He can tell Jack's joking, but glares at him anyway.

"I don't _side_ with him. Or with you, for that matter." He draws level with Jack, brings a hand to his cheek and kisses him, just a brush of lips. "I trust you." A pause, just long enough to give Jack the reassurance he's looking for before bringing him back to reality. "Both of you." There it is, the smile Jack wears when he's plotting some interesting evening. "Now, can we get out of here?"


	17. Sixteenth Move

_**Sixteenth move**_

Nothing better, after spending the morning checking and rechecking Cardiff sewers, making sure that all time anomalies have really disappeared, and most of the afternoon ensuring Weevils make it back to their nests without ripping apart a quarter of the Cardiff population, than a long, hot shower. Well, maybe a long, hot shower with somebody to scrub his back and have fun with in his newly installed, really posh, wetroom. Tucking a towel around his waist, he runs another through his hair. Maybe he should try to find Ianto. Or Jack. Or both. A bit late for shower sex, but...

A knock on his bedroom door nearly makes him jump. When he opens the door, he's pretty sure his jaw drops to the floor, followed by the towel in his hand. Not that he cares, with such a sight in front of him. Ianto in a black t-shirt and whitewashed jeans, torn at the left knee. Barefoot. Hair still damp from the shower. He really should dress like that more often.

"May I come in?" He smiles and raises an eyebrow, eyes roaming up and down Ianto while he gives him his more inviting smile. Ianto leans on the door jamb, the pure image of indolence, and he finds it hard not to drag him in and push him against the wall. When Ianto takes his hand out of the pocket, two metal bracelets hanging from his thumb, he swallows hard. He's always known Ianto had an interesting mind hidden under all those layers of prim and proper look and innocent smile. Interesting, as in, full of new ideas to try in – and out – of bed. After all, he's always been attracted to those that can not only keep up with him, but also surprise him. However, _this_ is something not even he could have expected. Not even from Jack, and Jack did, back in the day, come up with some pretty original stuff.

"Looking like that?" Ianto tilts his head and gives him that absolutely adorable smile that's nearly a pout and he's never been able to resist. "Any time you want, don't even bother knocking." He moves aside and closes the door behind him. "Are those...?" He points to the bracelets as Ianto sits on the edge of the bed, metal sliding through his fingers as he plays with them.

"Two-way?" Ianto looks up, a coy smile on his face. "Yep." Oh, Goddesses. "Found them in the secure Archives. Under the right heading, for once." When Ianto places the pair on the bedside table and takes another one out of his pocket, he really can't believe his luck. "I think Jack will be joining us... if you don't mind." He snorts. Mind? Him? As if.

"As long as he's taken a shower..." Ianto laughs. "I've had enough of sewer stench for a life or two, thank you very much." His mind is already in overdrive with the possibilities. Jack, Ianto, and two-way bracelets. Doesn't get much better than that. "So... who's going to chain who?" Ianto gives him a come-hither look he can't resist, and pulls at the towel around his waist when he gets close enough. He leans down for a kiss, expecting Ianto to put up a fight, try to take control, but it seems they are playing a different game tonight. Teasing. Something metal falls on his hand – one of the bracelets – while coldness closes around his wrist. He swallows when he hears it click in place. Feels more than finds his way around Ianto's forearm and struggles with the clasp. It does take a few tries before he manages.

It takes a moment to adjust to the reality around him as the link is established. It's been way too long since he last wore one of these things, and he had nearly forgotten how deep the bond they create is. For a second, he's both standing by the bed, running a hand through Ianto's hair, looking down on those oh so kissable lips and feeling his whole body shiver as Ianto rakes his nails down his thigh, and sitting on the bed, looking up at himself, breath catching at the gentle pull on his hair and putting on his best come-and-fuck-me smile. It is disconcerting. Nearly overwhelming. It takes more than a few breaths before he can think clearly – sort of – again.

"Wow." Ianto closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. He can _feel _the tension, the need, the whirlwind in Ianto's head, even if the link doesn't go as deep as conscious thought. "That is... intense." To say the least. He runs his hand down the back of Ianto's head, down his neck until he finds cotton under his fingers. When he starts pulling at the t-shirt, he can feel it slithering up his back, even though he knows it is not there. This is going to be an interesting night. "A bit overwhelming, even."

"So, what's the plan, Eye Candy?" Ianto gives him an innocent look, but he's way past buying that act. Not that he ever did believe it, just pretended to. He drops the t-shirt to the floor, just as Ianto's eyes go to the other pair of bracelets and a wave of uncertainty reaches him through the link. As if Ianto were thinking of changing the plan, whatever it is, having had his first taste of the full strength of these things. Not that he can blame him. Just the memories of the first time he used them makes him shiver. "Where does Jack fit in this?"

"Oh, you mean you haven't figured it out yet?" Jack's voice is merely a very inviting murmur in his ear as a chin rests on his shoulder and strong arms wrap around him. He curses for a second – he's getting sloppy, and that will be the death of him, outside the 'safety' of the Palace under the Pavement and the century no enemy of his would bother searching. "Come on, I know you're better than that..." He keeps his eyes on Ianto, watches him squirm, lean into the touch that isn't there, as hands move up and down his chest. Feels the tension building inside, the questions. And then it all clicks. What Ianto has in mind. Why the doubts, now. And he smiles even more. Oh, that devious, devious mind.

Jack pulls away from him and grabs the other pair or bracelets – Ianto must have let him into the plan beforehand. Or sent one of those memo things he keeps missing. He gives Jack a warning look, but he seems to have noticed the uncertainty in Ianto as well. When he pushes Ianto back onto the bed, he feels the hand pressing on his own chest, the mattress firm under him, as he is again in two places at once. Ianto brings his hands above his head, and, for the first time, John feels him go with it, drown in the sensation, _surrender_. Oh, the beauty of it. He lies down beside him, left hand tracing patterns on Ianto's stomach, slowly undoing his jeans, gently caressing every inch of skin he can find, reassuring, seeking, offering. Echoes of the touch get back to him, as real as the duvet under him or the slight twinge of pain on his side when he moves too suddenly.

"What do you want?" A whisper in Ianto's ear, and the kid looks at him as if he didn't know what to say. Jack, having already lost his clothing – how does he always manage to do that so quickly? - kneels between Ianto's legs and slowly slithers the jeans off him. When Jack lies down the other side of Ianto, the kid moans in a way that shoots straight through his body. Jack hooks a finger under his chin and they kiss, messily, and lazily, above Ianto, who makes the cutest frustrated noises he's ever heard as he tries to get a taste. Oh, how he's going to enjoy teasing him. Some other night. Not today. Pulling away from Jack, he turns back to Ianto, splaying a hand on his chest. "Could leave the other pair for later. Let you get used to these things." Ianto shakes his head and stares at him.

"I think..." Jack licks Ianto's neck, a wet stripe from the clavicle to the earlobe, and makes him – them both, actually – pant. "I can handle it." He raises an eyebrow. Ianto is nothing if not determined. Grabbing Jack's hand as he brings the bracelets to Ianto, he shuffles around until his head is on the pillows. Ianto follows him. Jack curls at the feet of the bed, a look of curiosity on his face, which is always a good thing. He runs a hand along Ianto's jawline. Watches Jack tremble at the touch. Takes a deep breath. Throws every ounce of honesty he has left through the link. "I want to..." Oh, that adorable blush. Ianto swallows, trying to find the words. "I want to watch you."

Images fill his head, too quick to focus on any of them, yet intense as if they were his own fantasies. He's got to admit that taking a peek at Ianto's mind is much better than anything he could have come up with. He shakes his head, trying to separate echoes from the reality around him, and gives Ianto a predatory smile. Ianto may be struggling for words, but the pictures he's painting are... Ianto doesn't just want to watch – he wants to try the other end of a trick he's pulled on him – and Jack – before.

"Do you trust me?" Ianto gives him a puzzled look, but nods. He digs under the pillow and takes out his favourite pair of cuffs: deadlock sealed, but made of softsteel – however much one pulls on them, they don't give, they feel solid against one's skin... but they are pliant enough to not leave even the hint of a mark behind. He holds them in front of Ianto for a moment. Watches emotions play on his face, feels them inside him. Hears Jack's breath hitch at the sight. Places the cuffs on Ianto's chest, cold metal against hot skin. "Do you trust me?" Ianto nods. He raises an eyebrow. He needs to hear it.

"Yes." Jack shoots him a look that seems to say something about just how unfair it is for him to come waltzing in and be cuffing Ianto when he's barely been around for a few days, when it took poor Jack the whole of... probably two weeks. Three tops. He kisses him, as a kind of peace offering, then returns his attentions to Ianto. Slides the cuffs on his left hand and feels the shivers down his own spine. He's always had a things for cuffs, either end of them. It's always thrilling to do this with a new lover – no two people react in the same way. But he has to admit that this, cuffs and bracelets together, is a first even for him. He should have thought of it years ago. He passes the free end of the cuffs between two bars of the headboard, and brings it to Ianto's right hand. Stares at him. One last chance to get out of it. "Yes." The cuffs click in place.

He watches as Jack brings the other pair of bracelets out again and slides one up Ianto's arm. Another nod, and Jack waits for the words. Eventually ties it around Ianto's wrist. He grabs the other one. Jack offers him a hand. His fingers shake as he struggles with the clasp – rediscovering Jack as a lover is being even more intense than the first time around. When the circuit closes, he can't help but lie back on the bed, barely breathing. Through his link to Ianto, he can feel the echoes coming from Jack. He wants and needs and is about to lose it in three different ways, each unique, each incredibly strong. Each as real as his own. Whichever of the three that is.

He turns towards Ianto. Places a hand on his hip. Leaves a trail of kisses on his arm. Pulls away before the echoes get too strong and he starts getting lost in them. Drags Jack with him, leaving Ianto on his own. Takes a moment to catch his breath while Ianto looks at them both, all invitation. Smiles as the three of them gasp when he rakes his nails down Jack's back. The echoes are still there, but not as overwhelming. Ianto gives him an encouraging smile.

Before he knows it, Jack is on him, all hands and sloppy kisses and a hint of teeth. He goes with it, smiling, enjoying the underlying fight that sex with Jack always has. Feels the weight of Jack as he tries to keep him still, slithers as best as he can and turns the tables on him. To his left, Ianto is panting, eyes following them, lips parted. He straddles Jack and pushes him down to the mattress when he tries to move away. Digs his fingers into Jack's shoulders, feels the echo on his own. Takes the time to kiss him, from soft brushes of lips to bruising, biting ones. Watches Ianto squirm and whimper and bite his lip, looking for a contact that isn't there but feels real. Lets his fingers ghost down Ianto's arm.

"Let go." Another puzzled look. "Just feel." Ianto snorts at the words, as if he had used them before on someone. "You have no idea just how hot you look when you let go..." He kisses his way down Jack's chest, and soon he can't really tell who's moaning and gasping for air and asking for more. Not that it matters... He nudges Jack's legs apart and settles between them – Ianto shuffles around as well. When he draws Jack as deep as he can, Ianto's hips leave the mattress, making his hard cock bob as he moves. He swallows as the echoes propagate and nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels on himself the effects of every single trick he is pulling on Jack.

The look on Jack's face, that mixture of pleasure and memories and need to forget, is only too familiar. The smirk when Jack grabs his right hand and puts two fingers in his mouth, tongue casually swirling around them, brings him back to many times together. Down bloody memory lane, and, for once, he doesn't mind. The frustrated, needy noises Ianto is making seem to be hardwired into his system to make him want _more_, and _now_.

"We could let you go, you know?" Jack pushes his hand away, leaving a wet trail on his own chest, and turns to Ianto. "If you really want to join us..." Ianto shakes his head and murmurs something that reminds him of their little encounter the other day, when he showed Ianto the wonders of playing with the mind, rather than the body. "We could..." Jack never finishes whatever he was going to say, as he slips wet fingers inside him. Ianto moans and pushes against a hand that isn't there. He nearly loses it when the echo reaches him, followed by some very interesting images. Ianto's? Jack's? Not that it matters.

Hands clawing at his shoulders, insistently dragging him upwards, towards a very heated kiss as Jack tries to roll him over. He allows himself a smile – Jack's taller, he's nimbler, and it's always interesting to see who gets things his way. It takes just about every trick in the book – raking nails, feathery touches, kissing, nibbling, knees in all the right places and even asking nicely – before he gets Jack where he wanted: on his side, facing Ianto, nestling comfortably in his arms as they fuck, slowly and almost carefully, trying not to drown in the echoes. Every little move, caress, touch, _anything,_ propagates from Jack to him and from him to Jack through Ianto. Who seems to be really enjoying the show, writhing and struggling for breath, eyes never leaving them.

When Jack grabs his hand, covers it with his own, and curls it around his cock, he's pretty sure he forgets how to breathe, or why it is important. Everything feels real: being inside Jack, holding on to him for dear life, having someone – himself – behind him, a hard cock inside and a hot hand around his own, being cuffed to the bed. All of it. Maybe he should worry about his brain short-circuiting, but it feels too damn good to care.

Pleasure that isn't his hits him, and he bites into Jack's neck, trying to ground himself in the wave of pain that comes with it. In front of him, Ianto is a beautiful sight, back arched, eyes closed, belly covered in his own come and letting out the most delicious moans, gasping in surprise as it all mixes in his head, the calm after the climax and the tension just before it.

"You really.... know how to... pick them." He's not even sure how he manages the words as he pushes inside Jack once again and pleasure throws him over the edge. Through half-closed eyes, he watches it play on Ianto's face. Feels the tug of restrains he knows are not there. Struggles to keep his hand moving, leaves sloppy kisses on Jack's shoulder and neck. Feels the urge for release as if it were his own. Tenses himself as Jack comes. Shudders, shivers, and other many good things, on a wave of pleasure that isn't his. Collapses, exhausted, and could very well not move again and die happy.

"You definitely get points for that, Eye Candy..." Ianto snorts. Somehow he manages to reach for his wriststrap and trigger the lock of the cuffs, freeing Ianto's hands. Jack pulls them both towards him. As the three of them somehow manage enough coordinated movement to slither under the duvet and just lie there, still reeling from the aftershocks, he doesn't even remember whether there is a world outside the room.

_**Countermeasure**_

It takes Ianto a long time to catch his breath. Lying in bed, eyes closed, curled around Jack, an arm draped over his waist, fingers barely brushing John's hip, he's still struggling to get his head – well, the fried remains of his brain – around the bracelets. He _knew_ the link these ones establish is more intense than the one that chained John to him a few days back, but he wasn't expecting _this_. Being in three places as once. Feeling three different sets of feelings and sensations and wants and needs, all as real as his own.

An image of himself, cuffed to the bed and enjoying the fuck of his life – even though nobody is laying a finger on him – hits him through the link, and he's pretty sure he blushes more than ever before. John having mirrors around the bed is one thing – not that he didn't find them a bit disconcerting the first time – but this, seeing himself through somebody else's eyes, with all the baggage of emotion and desire that goes with the picture, is even more... intense. Intimate even. Does he really get that expression of utter end-the-world-now-if-you-want-to bliss? Does he really pull at the cuffs like that?

"Haven't had enough, you two?" Jack's voice barely registers in his brain. So it must be John playing show and tell, then. Slowly, struggling to convince his body to move, he undoes one of the bracelets. John's presence at the edge of his mind – that ever-present smirk and loudness and bravado that even at this close quarters John hides behind – vanishes. From the other side of Jack, John pouts. Hopefully more for show than anything else. When he opens the other bracelet, the link with Jack breaks as well. All of a sudden, he's alone with his own thoughts and his own perception of the world, and back to being in only one point of time and space. A bit disappointing, really. "Spoilsport."

"If you say 'work to do' now, Eye Candy, I'm going to cuff you to the bed again." He smirks back at John, as if daring him to carry out his threat. John doesn't threat in vain, but he's known for quite some time now that his bark is much worse than his bite. At least when it involves one Ianto Jones. He considers it for a moment, reminding them of everything that still needs to be done, despite the late hour, despite the already long and exhausting day they have had. But even he has to admit that would be too cruel. Not to mention the fact that he's not entirely sure he could drag himself out of bed right now even if he wanted.

"Paperwork won't go anywhere." With that, he settles back on the bed, head on Jack's arm. Enjoying, just this once, not having to worry about anything. Well, not about much. Well, not about anything he hasn't been taking care of for a while now. Jack runs a hand through his hair as he settles one on his chest, feeling the heartbeat under his fingertips. Tries to focus on John's smile, that nearly childish amazement triggered by just about anything, but – apparently – especially by finding new interesting ways of making him blush. But his eyes are already closing with sleep.

Everybody needs a good night of sleep, every now and again.


	18. Seventeenth Move

_**Seventeenth move**_

When he opens his eyes, Ianto is sneaking out of the bed. It's barely seven twenty-three in the morning, and Ianto is, judging by that thoughtful expression on his face, probably already listing in his head everything that needs to be done. At least he seems to have his priorities right, and coffee always comes before Weevils that are getting cranky with all the playing about with time that's been happening lately, dinosaurs that still threaten to eat alive anybody other than Ianto who tries to feed them, the daily ton of paperwork and the longer-than-his-arm list of systems to check every bloody morning. Pity that doughnuts and pasties have to wait until after all of that.

When he hears the shower running, he tries, with a yawn, to slip out of Jack's arms – Jack was always clingy in his sleep, and apparently old habits die hard, but it takes a few more attempts than he was expecting. When he finally manages and looks down on Jack, the bastard is smiling at him like the innocent kid that never did anything wrong.

"Good morning to you as well." He stretches his arms above his head and makes his way towards the shower. Nothing like a good fuck followed by a good night of sleep in the arms of his lovers to help him wake up in a good mood. All he needs now is a bit of a chase, maybe even some Nasty Aliens to shoot at, and today will just be on its way to being another good day at Torchwood Three. Just... no saving the world heroics this week. He has had enough of those for a lifetime or two, even though he knows only too well it'll be the end of the world again soon.

"No harassing my employees in the shower!" Jack's voice follows him as he enters the wetroom and leans on the door frame, barely holding back the laughter. Under the jets of water, Ianto is rolling his eyes.

"I don't think harassing is the term to use here, Jack." On the bed, Jack stretches like a cat and makes himself comfortable again, as if not planning to move just yet. So much for the man that rarely sleeps. Shaking his head, he pushes himself away from the wall and joins Ianto in the shower – the nuances of the English language can wait.

* * *

Twenty-eight minutes, three back-scrubs and a bit of fun later, he's sitting on the edge of the bed, doing up the last buckle on his boots. Ianto has already left, muttering something about 'having to dress up for the day', as if jeans and a t-shirt didn't quite go with Torchwood's lack of dress code, and taking both pairs of bracelets with him, probably back to the Archives 'where they belong'. Jack is standing in the middle of the room, doing up one of those blue shirts of his – does the man have _anything else_ in his wardrobe? – and smirking like the cat that got the cream.

"So... Are you staying this time?" He stands up, gun belt on his left hand, and considers the question. He could. Stay, settle for a bit. Not for long, cos he's never been that kind of man. Or he's never _wanted_ to be that kind of man. Somehow this feels different.

"Yeah." He does up the belt. Takes the guns from the bedside table and slides them on the holsters. Tries to look away from Jack, knowing all too well he's one of the few people that can see past his masks and pretences whenever he wants to. Curses the bloody mirrors that make it nearly impossible to hide from those inquisitive blue eyes. "Maybe for a while." He takes a deep breath. If Jack uses the word 'nesting' in his next sentence he's going to have a fight in his hands.

"Gwen will be thrilled." He snorts at the sarcasm in Jack's voice. Yes, PC Cooper will need to get used to the idea of having him around. He may even stop flirting with her if she stops throwing daggers at him ever time they are in the same room. What's it going to take for her to admit that maybe, just maybe, he may come in handy from time to time?

"She'll get used to it." Not that he cares if she doesn't, as long as she doesn't shoot him, poison him or otherwise try to kill him. Which, fortunately, doesn't seem to be in her nature. He takes a few steps towards Jack and runs a finger down his jawline. Jack keeps his eyes on him and leans into the touch. "I've got a charming personality, I'm sure she'll see that." They both laugh. For a moment, it feels like the old times, when the Universe was theirs for the taking. Maybe he missed Jack more than he was ready to admit, even to himself.

"Come on." Jack pulls away and heads for the door. "I need coffee." He follows, grabbing his sword from its place on the wall and sliding it into its place on the belt. It took some convincing before Ianto finally got the hint that no, none of his weapons will be stored in the armoury, he _really_ likes to have them around, but he eventually came around. Gwen still huffs and puffs about 'people that feel the need to be armed at all times', while stashing her handgun in her handbag every night before going home, but pointing out the irony would only be classed as rude.

"Is it coffee or a snog from the man you've got making the coffee that you are after?" Jack spins around, sticks his tongue out and keeps walking, obviously not in the mood for witty comebacks at the moment.

Suddenly, the air around him tingles. Glows. Jack turns around again, the easy-going smile on his face replaced by a worried look. He takes a few steps back, but the shining cloud around sticks to him like a hunter to its prey.

"No. No. No." It's a bloody time distortion. "I'm not going anywhere!" He opens his Vortex Manipulator and tries to figure out _exactly _what the Hell is going on. "Jack!" He shouts just as everything around him becomes fuzzy. He feels the familiar push and pull of time and space folding around him as he's taken away, cursing and swearing to the void that forms around him before he materializes in a different place, a different time. "Oh, you've gotta be _kidding_!"

Somebody is going to get killed in a very painful way when he makes it out of here...

_**Countermeasure**_

Ianto is already furiously hammering at the keyboard, having silenced the alarms, when Jack walks into the main area of the Hub, looking angrier than he's seen him... in a long time. Probably since he found out about Lisa. He swallows; it still hurts to think about her, even after all this time. He loved her. Still loves her, even though things are different now. He shakes his head, trying to concentrate in the problem at hand.

"There's a time distortion _inside_ the Hub!" He turns his eyes back to the screen. "I thought this place was supposed to be time-proof." Jack climbs up the stairs and leans over, one hand on the backrest of the chair, the other on his shoulder, barely there over the wool of the suit.

"Should be." The cog door opens and Gwen rushes in, still holding the takeaway coffee she insists on buying every morning. "I reviewed everything after Gray..." He doesn't need to look behind him to see the pained expression on Jack's face. Jack still blames himself for Gray. For Tosh. For Owen. Probably for everybody that he couldn't save. And that is probably a very long list by now. He bites his lips, trying to make sense of the reading.

"What's going on?" Sitting at her desk, Gwen brings up CCTV, and he's never felt more grateful that he disconnected the cameras in John's quarters. He wouldn't hear the end of it if Gwen found out. She probably suspects, but won't say a thing until she knows for sure. "I heard the alarms on my way down, what is it?"

"Some kind of time distortion. It formed around John, and took him." Jack moves from his station to Gwen's, already in full Captain Harkness mode, and nearly punches the desk when none of the standard filters reveal anything they didn't already know in the CCTV footage. "There's gotta be something..."

After the first few minutes of near-panic and fresh energy, Jack sits on the sofa, elbows on his knees. He's seen it before, the frustration when there are no clues, nothing to do, not even something to _try_. Slowly, he stands up and walks towards Jack, sitting beside him.

"We'll find him." Somehow his voice sounds more confident than he feels. "It's John we are talking about, it's not like he can't take care of himself." Jack nods, probably still going about every small detail, trying to find one tiny scrap of something that would help them figure exactly what took John.

"Have we considered..." Gwen spins around in her chair, grabbing her coffee as she moves. "Could he have... dunno, used his own Vortex Manipulator and just taken off?" Jack lifts his head and glares at her, before taking a deep breath and shaking his head. For once, Gwen doesn't seem on the mood to argue the point.

"No. He was trying to get away from it." Gwen pulls a face, probably thinking about all the times before when John tricked them. He can't blame her for not trusting John, he doesn't exactly have a good reputation. But, having seen the images himself, he's got to agree with Jack. John didn't go willingly. "Whatever it was, it took him, and we're going to get him back." He cringes. Well, yes, there may be a slight problem with that.

"How exactly are we going to do that, Jack?" He keeps his voice low. "Your wriststrap doesn't work. Even if we knew where and when he is..." The only means of time travel they have is the Rift Manipulator, which most likely would tear time apart again, and keeping their fingers crossed that a certain blue box might appear when they need it. "Unless he happens to be in this exact time, there is nothing we can do about it." Jack nods absently. Gwen looks at him, as if that part of the problem had only just dawned on her.

Without a word, Jack stands up and walks to his office. That is never a good sign. When Gwen makes to follow Jack, he raises a hand and shakes his head. Shrugging, she turns back to her computer, running the readings through yet more filters, trying to find something useful in them. Not likely, but that is the only thing they have at the moment. With a sigh, he goes after Jack, closing the glass door behind him.

"He wanted to stay." Behind his desk, Jack seems to be hiding from the world right now, chair turned around so he can look out to the main area. He puts his hands on his pocket, not really sure what to say, and walks towards him, sitting on the edge of the desk as he's done so many times before. Most of their conversations seem to start here.

"I know." Jack looks up at him in surprise. "He told me. Said he wouldn't mind sticking around for a while, as long as we didn't make it a habit of saving the world in ways that required him to be stabbed by alien plants." He can't help a smile when he remembers John's face as he said that. "Which, I gather, is as close as John Hart will ever come to admitting he wants to settle down, at least for now." Jack's lips curl in the beginning of a smile, as if he still couldn't believe that somebody other than Jack Harkness may be able to figure out what's going on in John's head. "He'll be back, Jack."

Jack stands up, snuggles up between his knees and rests his head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around him, feeling something stir up inside him, like every time Jack leans on him like this. Captain Harkness may be larger-than-life and capable of going through the end of the world without blinking, but, under all that, Jack is still human.

"He'd better be." He places a soft kiss on Jack's head, knowing there's nothing he can say that will make Jack stop worrying, or thinking about possible ways to at least find out where John ended up. He's just about to suggest some coffee and some of the usual, boring paperwork – no better time to get Jack to actually do his than when he wants to take something out of his mind – when the phone rings. Without letting go, Jack stretches and arm and picks up.

"Captain Harkness." It takes about thirty seconds before he pulls away, sits back on the chair and starts scribbling notes on a piece of paper. With a sigh, he pushes himself away from the desk and heads for the door. When he turns his head to take another look at Jack before leaving, Jack is mimicking for a cup of coffee. Well, it can't be too bad, then.

"Okay, Gwen, Ianto." He's barely made it to the bottom of the stairs when Jack's voice booms behind him. He trots back, wondering what they'll be facing now – nobody calls Torchwood this early to congratulate them on their good work. Not that anybody ever does congratulate them, as a matter of fact. "One Bob Roberts, photographs courtesy of St Helen's Hospital, where he is currently... resident." Jack taps a few keys on the keyboard in front of him and brings a bunch of images up on the screen.

"My God, look at his eyes." Gwen drags her chair along and stares at the monitor, pulling a face when she takes a sip of her coffee. He rolls his eyes. One day she'll stop buying takeaway coffee and letting the expert work their magic in the coffee machine in the Hub.

"He's in a deep trance-like state that has the doctors baffled, and his wife says it was brought on by a call in the middle of the night." Jack seems to have pushed away every thought of John's disappearance. He'll still be worrying, deep inside, but Torchwood comes first. Always has, always will. Because it is harsh job, and somebody has to do it.

"Left on hold to his bank, probably." Or attacked by some kind of nasty alien device that spreads itself through the phone lines, but there's no easy punchline for that. Plus, it is probably too close to the truth, anyway. "I've found myself slipping under before now."

"Bob Roberts isn't the only one." A few more clicks and a map appears on the screen, seven dots scattered across Cardiff, thumbnail images floating around each of them. "Seven other cases from across the city, every one of them found close to, or with a phone in their hand."

"I don't understand." Gwen puts her cup down, frowning, as if trying to make sense of it all. Two years in Torchwood and she still seems to struggle with the fact that, most of the time, nothing around here makes much sense. At least not at first sight.

"Nobody does." Jack grins. Nothing better to forget a problem than another one. "That's why it is a Torchwood case. No time for coffee, Ianto! Car keys, catch!" He barely manages to catch them as Jack runs for his coat. He can't help a smile. Some things will never change.


End file.
